One Story from Korea
by Texas Bluebonnet
Summary: This story starts some time after Radar goes home. A Texas tornado by the name of Sarabeth is transferred to the 4077th hospital unit. I hope y'all enjoy these chapters. Comments are always welcome. Complete.
1. Default Chapter

**One Story from Korea**

By: Texas Bluebonnet

* * *

ONE 

_Oct. 2, 1952: 0800 hours_

A military truck sped along a rocky trail. Dust billowing behind the vehicle drifted onto the brush and scrub trees that lined the road. Nothing else was moving in the area. The sky was blue and the weather was cool. The gently rolling hills seemed untouched by the war...if one could ignore the artillery shell craters and the burned out villages that were everywhere along this route.

Eleven members of the United Nations peacekeeping forces were in the truck. The ten Australians were being sent to reinforce another outfit. They were experienced soldiers. Their weapons were never far from their hands. And they never completely relaxed.

The American -an Army nurse picked up along the way- was headed for the Mobile Army Surgical Hospital Unit # 4077. This was her first day in Korea.

The vehicle lurched and bounced as the driver, Corporal Tom Buchanan, struggled to keep it out of the ruts. "Bloody hell!" he cursed loudly and then offered an apology to his female passenger. "Sorry, lady. Roads don't last long around here. Hope this isn't hurting your shoulder too much."

"It's fine." The woman grimaced slightly and then retorted, "Since when has this ever been a road?" One slender arm was braced against the dashboard while the other was firmly gripping the truck seat.

"Truth be told," Mitch Cochlan, the lieutenant sitting on the other side of her, replied, "this is one of the better roads."

"It figures," Sarabeth MacAllister answered with a laugh. Tired, thirsty and aching from the constant jarring, she was, nonetheless, enjoying herself. She had always made friends easily. And these men, glad for the chance of female companionship, had made her feel welcome.

A sudden icy shiver made her gasp. Instinctively, she flung her arm up to protect her face and shouted, "Ambush! Down! Get down!" as the windshield shattered.

Even before the transport shuddered to a stop, Cochlan was forcing open the door. "Out! Behind those rocks!" He picked up his rifle and grabbed the woman by the arm. The two of them raced towards shelter.

"Keep your head down," he ordered as they stretched flat on the ground.

The men in the back of the truck were also scrambling for cover. Some of them were already returning the enemy's fire.

Wide-eyed and frightened, MacAllister looked at the soldier for guidance. Seeing the blood on his face, the young woman reached for the medical kit slung over her shoulder. "You're going to need a couple of stitches over that eye," she noted. Her expression was calmer.

"It will keep," he told her impatiently.

"Some tape across that gash will do for now." Despite his protests, the nurse placed small bandage strips on his wound. "All right. Now, what do we do?" she asked.

The Australian surveyed the terrain. "It's a small patrol. Maybe seven or eight of them. If they had anything heavier than rifles, they would have hit us with them, already."

"They'll be moving around---trying to catch us in a crossfire. As the fighting shifts, find cover to match," he instructed. "That tree over there...or under the lorry...whatever offers the best protection. The most important thing to remember is to stay down!"

Lieutenant Cochlan was removing his gun belt as he talked. He handed the pistol to the woman. "You can shoot?"

"I can shoot." MacAllister accepted the weapon and fastened the belt around her waist.

He had a somber smile. "I bet you can, Texas. But do you think you can tell the difference between us diggers and the Chinese?" He tried to make light of their situation. Cochlan knew, however, he was not fooling her.

Sarabeth looked at him with a level expression. Her glance went up and down his tall, lanky, tanned frame. And she smiled. The laughter was back in her eyes. "I reckon I can, Outback."

"Hell of a welcome to Korea, isn't it?" He asked. With a reassuring squeeze to her arm, Cochlan hefted his rifle, issued orders to his men and moved away.

"Hell of a welcome, indeed," Lieutenant MacAllister whispered to herself. Only minutes before, they had been trading jokes and laughing at each other's accents. They were now in the middle of a battle.

From her position behind the rocks, she watched, and listened, in fascinated horror, to that battle. She quickly learned that bullets made different sounds when they were striking flesh than when they were hitting metal or dirt. She also learned that grenades had their own kind of scream. And so did the injured men.

Beyond the front wheels of the truck, she could see a pair of combat boots. Their owner was trying to crawl further into the brush. Over the sounds of the weapons, she could hear his moans of pain. Was that Corporal Buchanan?

She couldn't tell. Whoever it was, he was hurt. And she was a nurse.

MacAllister firmly grasped her medical bag. She took a deep breath. She had worked in emergency situations before. But she had never had to treat a patient while someone was shooting at her. Another deep breath and she was as ready as she was ever going to be. She gauged the distance she had to cover and sprinted across.

Bullets seemed to follow her steps.

Once, she slid on the gravel, twisting her ankle. With a whispered oath of pain, MacAllister rapidly limped across the uneven ground.

Somehow, she managed to reach the injured man. As she dropped to the ground beside him, her movements startled the soldier. Trying to defend himself, he swung his rifle at her. The woman dodged his weak blow.

"Tom! It's me, Sarabeth."

"Get down, lady!" The corporal commanded with a liquid gurgle that didn't belong in his voice. A swift barrage of gunfire emphasized his words. "They've spotted us! Take cover!" His body suddenly jerked from the impact of a bullet. "Go! Get out of here!" he ordered.

"We're both getting out of here," MacAllister shouted over the noise.

She grabbed the Australian, and, with effort, dragged him towards the transport. He tried to help by pushing himself along with his legs and the stock of his weapon. More rifle shots came their way. The woman felt a strange, breezy tugging on her sleeve. Sweating, despite the chilly air, she pulled harder.

Moments later, they were sharing the dubious safety of the truck's undercarriage. It smelled of oil and diesel. It did provide a measure of cover, however.

"Are you all right?" Buchanan asked.

Her hands were shaking. Her heart was pounding. Her ankle was throbbing. Her stomach was rolling. And she had a very strong urge to cry. Sarabeth MacAllister took a deep breath and smiled, instead. "Fine and dandy. Let me look at your injuries."

Lying on her side, propped on one elbow, the nurse gently examined the soldier. A large piece of glass was lodged near his right eye. Other bloody slivers were embedded in his throat and chest. More blood seeped from the hole in his leg.

"My eye? Is it going to be all right?" he asked worriedly.

"It's going to be OK," she reassured him. "Be still now and don't talk."

Sarabeth opened her medical bag, rubbed alcohol over her hands and set to work. Her dedicated, skillful fingers were no longer trembling.


	2. 2

TWO

The fighting had moved away from the ambush site. On her stomach, still under the truck, MacAllister studied the surrounding hills. She could no longer see Cochlan's men. She could, however, still hear the shooting. Absently, she rubbed her aching forehead. She glanced at the Australian corporal. He was drifting in and out of consciousness.

"Water," he murmured. "Thirsty."

"So am I," Sarabeth agreed.

She remembered seeing a canteen in the cab of the vehicle. Cautiously, the woman crawled out from beneath the truck. She knelt by a tire, wincing as she tried to put weight on her swollen ankle. Distracted, she reached for the fender to pull herself upright. Instead of metal, she felt a human hand.

With a cry of fear, MacAllister whirled. Directly above her, dangling from the wooden railing, was the body of an Australian soldier. Sightless eyes stared at her. The rest of his face was obscured by blood.

Horrified, the woman screamed.

All the terror she had experienced this day caught up with her.

Whimpering and weeping, she huddled by the side of the truck.

"No! Oh, no!" she gasped. "Oh, my God! I hate this thrice-damned place!"

In a few minutes, she regained her composure. She had seen worse sights. Only the unexpected of his ruined face and the events of the day had managed to unsettle her. Wiping her eyes, Lieutenant MacAllister stumbled to the back of the transport. She climbed aboard and eased the body onto its back. Searching for a pulse, she turned away with a sigh.

"Welcome to Korea." From her duffel bag, she removed a towel and placed it over the soldier's face. "Rest in peace." She whispered.

"Tom," MacAllister gently touched his hand, "I've brought you some water."

The man groaned. "My eyes!" He gasped in concern.

"I bandaged both of your eyes---just as a precaution." The nurse quickly explained. "You're going to be all right." She helped him drink from the canteen. "I wish I had some painkillers to give you."

"Lady, just keep talking to me. That's all the painkillers I need." Buchanan replied. "I'm not certain...but, earlier, did I hear you scream?" he asked.

"Nope." The woman looked around her. "What are we supposed to do now?"

"We wait. If any of the men are still alive, they'll be making their way back to this location."

"And, if they don't come back?" she asked. The man didn't answer. He was unconscious, again. MacAllister answered her own question. "Then, you get to see, first hand, how the Chinese treat female prisoners."

For a long time, she lay there and shivered.

On guard duty, the woman was trying to watch the countryside in all directions. How long were they supposed to wait? The corporal needed a doctor's attention. So did she, for that matter.

The Texan noticed a bird flying out of a bush near the curve of the road. She tightened her hold on the pistol grip.

"Tom," she whispered nervously, "someone's coming."

Pushing the bandage away from his good eye, the man crawled to the edge of the vehicle where she was crouched. "Can you see who it is?" His voice was a harsh croak. His face was drawn tight with pain. His rifle was ready to fire.

"Not yet."

The group of men moved closer and then paused.

"It's Mitch!" MacAllister reported with relief. "They're carrying someone. And some one else is hurt, too." Gathering her med kit, Sarabeth started forward.

The corporal caught her arm, holding her back. "Wait." He spoke quietly.

"But it's Mitch!" She protested.

The corporal explained, "The Chinese will make a captured man walk in front of their troops to flush out any stragglers."

She looked at him in surprise and shook her head, ruefully. "I have a lot to learn about this place."

"Lady, in this game---if you quit learning---you quit living."

"Here's to our continuing education, then."

"I'd drink to that---if I had a drink," he remarked with a small grin.

A strange whistle pierced the stillness. The Australian relaxed and fumbled with the safety on his weapon. "It's all right. The lieutenant wouldn't use that signal if anything was wrong." He whistled a hoarse reply.

Sarabeth released a slow breath, set the safety on her pistol and returned it to the holster.

Hearing the warble from the direction of the vehicle, the soldiers resumed their marching. All of them looked tired. Cochlan was assisting one man. Others were carrying a second man on a makeshift stretcher. MacAllister hobbled over to greet them.

Seeing her relieved expression, Mitch Cochlan grinned. "Hello, beautiful!"

Blood stained and oil smeared, she laughed softly. "Beautiful! I feel like something the dog refused to eat!"

"Well, you look good to me."

"What do you know? Y'all like kangaroos," the nurse retorted and reached for the man he was supporting. "Let me take a look at them."

"You can look at them in the lorry. This area isn't as secure as I would like for it to be." Cochlan's face hardened as he saw the still form in the back of the transport. "Evans. I saw him hanging there as we moved out, but we couldn't stop for him."

Sarabeth placed her hand on his arm. "There wasn't a thing you could have done for him," she said sadly.

"He was a good soldier. A good man." Lieutenant Cochlan frowned and glanced around him. "Time to get out of here."

Two of his men clambered into the back of the truck. Solemnly, they moved the body under a bench.

MacAllister directed the loading of the wounded. "I want the man with the shoulder injury on this bench. The man with the leg injury on the other." She pointed as she continued, "Put Tom on the bed of the truck. Use my satchel as a neck brace."

"I'll need someone to steady the men on the benches. And someone to hand me the instruments as I work." She might not know what to do during an attack, but she did know how to organize a treatment room---even if it was in the open bed of an Army truck.

When everyone was situated to her satisfaction, she turned to the Australian officer. "How far to the MASH unit?"

"Not far. About ten miles from here," Cochlan answered.

"Get us there quickly, Mitch," the woman directed. "But with as smooth a ride as possible."

"No worries." He looked at her sharply. "I thought I told you to avoid becoming a target."

"What makes you think I've been a target?" MacAllister asked curiously.

"This." The man fingered her sleeve and showed her the bullet hole in the loose material.

Her face ashen, she shuddered and then looked determined. "You do your job, Outback. I'll do mine," the nurse spoke.

"You know...I like you Texans," Lieutenant Cochlan commented with a smile. He boosted her into the waiting arms of his men.


	3. 3

THREE

Oct. 2nd: 1430 hours

With its horn blaring, the Army truck stopped in front of the hospital building. Doctors, nurses and other medical personnel came running from all directions. They were well acquainted with unexpected arrivals of vehicles carrying bleeding soldiers.

Noticing the woman in the back of the truck, a tall, dark-haired doctor called to her, "What do you have?"

"One stat. Two urgent. Two superficial," Lieutenant MacAllister answered. She was frowning in concern. "This one has to go first! He's in shock."

"Get some litters up there! Get those men down!" the doctor ordered.

The wounded were carefully placed on stretchers. Helping hands reached for the man in her care. "We'll take it from here," someone told her. "Climb down."

"I can't," the nurse explained. "I have a bleeder here. I have to come down with this one." She looked into the grey eyes of a tall man wearing a lab coat. "Will you help me, sir? My ankle isn't going to support me."

"Certainly, Lieutenant," came the reply in a distinctively cultured tone. The man had a dignified manner that seemed out of place in this hectic triage. He reached for her waist. Holding tightly onto the leaking artery, she slid into his grasp as the stretcher was lifted from the truck.

The woman yelped as she banged her ankle. Blinking back her tears, MacAllister recited the medical conditions of her patients. "This one has a severed femoral artery. He's lost a lot of blood."

"A bullet is lodged in that one's left upper torso," she continued as the other men were brought down. "The glass shard near this man's eye is snagged on the supraorbital notch. Smaller fragments in the cervical and thoracic areas; and a bullet wound to the right lower extremity."

"The other two have glass slivers and cuts -upper body regions- and," she added with a touch of wry humor, "one bad ankle." She glanced at the doctor who was holding her. She caught his flicker of a smile.

He surveyed the bandages on her arm, the cuts on her face and the blood on her military clothing. "How much of this blood is yours, Lieutenant?"

"Not that much, sir. Most of this is from him."

The other surgeon completed his assessment. "You're right about this one. He's first. Let's get him to pre-op, right away!"

"What's an American nurse doing with an Australian outfit?" she was asked as they hurried to the surgery preparation area.

"Just hitchhiking, sir. I was headed here."

"You mean, you belong to us?" The dark-haired surgeon asked in delight.

MacAllister grinned. "If this is the 4077th MASH hospital unit, I do."

"Even if it isn't---we aren't letting you get away," he informed her. "I'm Hawkeye Pierce. That's B J Hunnicutt." A sandy-haired officer with a mustache looked around at the sound of his name. He nodded and accompanied a litter into the treatment room. "The one you're having a foot race with is Charles Winchester."

"Major Winchester." the older officer corrected him.

"Sorry, Major Charles." Pierce gave his words an exaggerated nasal accent.

The nurse raised an eyebrow in mild surprise at the resentment in his voice. Then, with a warm smile for both of the men, she introduced herself. "I'm Lieutenant Sarabeth MacAllister, Surgical RN."

"Sarabeth MacAllister." Pierce savored the sound of her name. "Red hair and a Southern accent. I love it!"

"A Texas accent, sir." She corrected him with a grin.

Inside pre-op, the stretcher was placed on a waiting table. Displaying the same reserved dignity, the surgeon who had helped MacAllister into the hospital, released her. "There you go, my dear."

He turned his attention to the wounded man as Captain Pierce joined them. "I need an arterial clamp. And some O- blood." Major Winchester issued his orders to a nurse waiting nearby.

Lieutenant MacAllister balanced on one leg and lifted her swollen foot off the floor. After the clamp was in place, she withdrew her hands and wiggled her fingers in relief. "Much better."

With a stumbling hop, the woman eased out of the doctors' way. She resumed her explanation of field treatment. "The femoral artery was perforated by bullet shrapnel. It was severed completely during transport. I removed the damaged tissue and sutured. The proximal end didn't hold. But the leg is ready for a straight graft or a Butler's shunt---depending on the donor artery."

"Sounds like you know what you are talking about," Doctor Pierce told her.

"Yes, sir," she acknowledged.

"Unfortunately, we do not have a donor graft waiting." An older man remarked. He walked over to the table. "I'm Colonel Potter, commanding officer of this outfit. Lieutenant, that section of artery should not have been removed without one being available." He criticized her mildly.

"I have one, sir," MacAllister answered softly. "There's a man outside who didn't make it."

For a moment, all three men looked haggard and weary. Then the senior officer nodded and said, "Right. Where's his CO?"

She looked over her shoulder. "He just came in. Lieutenant Cochlan."

"I'll talk to him." Colonel Potter moved towards the Australian officer.

"Charles, you get started. I'll bring the graft and assist you," Captain Pierce directed. "Margaret," he called, "I need a surgical tray."

"Coming, doctor." A nurse with blonde hair, and the cluster insignia of a major on her collar, answered him.

"Finish here and move him into the OR." Major Winchester instructed a pre-op nurse. "Corpsman, help the lieutenant to a table. And," he added, "remove her sidearm." With a polite nod in her direction, the major turned and headed for the surgical scrub room. He paused inside the doorway to listen.

Hawkeye Pierce spun around. "You're carrying a pistol!" he accused her angrily.

"Sorry, sir. I forgot I was wearing it." MacAllister unbuckled the gun belt and handed it to the medic. "It was a better alternative than having to chunk rocks at them." She was puzzled by Pierce's unexpected outburst.

"Lieutenant, you are supposed to help heal their injuries---not cause them!" he snapped at her.

"The original bullets are still in it, sir." Her voice was neutral but she couldn't completely hide the sudden flash of anger in her eyes.

Doctor Pierce stalked away.

Doctor Winchester had a satisfied smirk on his face as he scrubbed for surgery.


	4. 4

FOUR

Oct. 2nd: 1500 hours

"Looks like we've been forgotten, Texas," Mitch Cochlan commented. The activity in the treatment room had slowed as the more critical patients were moved into the operating room. Only one nurse remained.

Perched on an examining table, MacAllister grinned at the Australian. "I told you we should have made reservations, Outback." She quipped.

The pre-op nurse, a heavier set young woman with a pretty Eurasian face and a welcoming smile came over to them. "Hi. I'm Lieutenant Kellye. Your injuries aren't serious, so you'll have to wait. But I can get you ready for the doctors."

Sarabeth returned her friendly smile as she made the introductions. Already, she liked this woman.

Kellye evaluated her first. "Let's get your ankle x-rayed. Then I can clean you up and see what else needs to be done," she told the newcomer with a smile. By the time she had unlaced the boot, however; neither of the women were smiling.

MacAllister was sweating. She was gripping the edge of the table so tight she had white knuckles showing. Kellye winced in sympathy. "I'll pack that in ice as soon as you get back. Klinger," she called, "bring a wheelchair."

Promptly, a medic arrived, pushing a wheelchair. He had a swarthy appearance and an impressive nose. In a deliberate charade, he tied something to an IV stand.

"A nice, slow ride to x-ray." Lieutenant Kellye directed.

"Yes, ma'am." He carefully helped the redheaded lieutenant into the chair.

Sarabeth couldn't resist asking him what he had fastened to the stand.

"My camel, Habibi," Klinger replied earnestly.

"Your camel?" Other than one eyebrow shooting up in amazement, MacAllister managed to keep her face expressionless. "Corporal, I don't reckon camels belong in a hospital."

"It's OK, Lieutenant," he assured her. "He's housebroken."

"Is Kellye your last name or your first?" Lieutenant MacAllister asked when she was wheeled back into the treatment room.

"First. But no one here can pronounce my last name---Tanakhamara---so everyone just calls me Kellye. Kellye is easier," the MASH nurse conceded.

"My name's Sarabeth." MacAllister grinned. "Fill me in, will you, Kellye? Tell me what I need to know about this place."

The nurse talked as she cleaned the other woman's cuts. "Colonel Potter is our CO. He's great. Captain Pierce is our Chief Surgeon. He likes to clown around. So does Captain Hunnicutt. Major Winchester's kinda stuffy. I like him. But I don't think many people do."

Reverberating noises were heard in the distance. The newest arrival listened to them carefully. Puzzled, she looked at the other woman for an answer.

"That's the artillery," Kellye explained. "We hear them almost all the time. Sometimes, they are much closer. Unfortunately, you get used to them after a while."

Tanakhamara pulled a screen around the table and helped MacAllister remove her upper garments. "Those are some bad bruises," she commented when she observed the Texan's shoulder. She securely fastened toweling around the woman's chest and draped her shirt over her shoulders.

The red-haired lieutenant shrugged and changed the subject. "I have the feeling that Captain Pierce considers himself a lady's man."

Kellye answered with a laugh, "He'll make seven passes at you before he even knows your name. But he's not like some doctors -he will leave you alone- if you really want him to."

"How are they to work with?"

"All of them are good surgeons. B J and the colonel are the easiest to work with. Hawkeye and the major are difficult! They want their instruments handed to them in precisely the right manner and at exactly the right moment. Most of the time, they won't even tell you which ones they want. You have to stay very sharp to work with them."

"But the one you really have to worry about---is Major Houlihan. She's the head nurse. She expects perfection at all times. No mistakes allowed. Surgery can actually be fun but she doesn't like for the nurses to joke with the doctors," Kellye explained. "She's married to some colonel. It's not working out. So when she's unhappy with him; she's unhappy with us."

"Terrific," Sarabeth said dryly. She asked, "Why was Captain Pierce so upset earlier? I realize that a pistol doesn't belong in a hospital, but I honestly forgot I was wearing it."

"Hawkeye hates death," the nurse explained. "And he hates anything that causes death. So, here lately, he's been on this rampage...if no one carried weapons...no one could get hurt."

"I reckon he does have a point," MacAllister acknowledged. "What about...the camel driver?"

Kellye laughed. "Klinger? He's harmless. He's trying to convince everyone that he's crazy so he can get a Section Eight discharge."

"He's convinced me." Cochlan's Australian-accented voice came from the other side of the screen. "But then, what do I know?" he joked. "I like kangaroos."

Sarabeth MacAllister's amused laughter filled the room.


	5. 5

FIVE

Oct. 2nd: 1600 hours

Inside the operating room, the four surgeons were busy with their patients.

"You know, Hunnicutt," Major Winchester spoke as he worked on the arterial transplant, "I believe that this newcomer will fit in better here than Roy Dupree."

"There's no doubt she's a might prettier, partner," Doctor Hunnicutt replied with an overemphasized accent.

"Dupree?" Pierce questioned.

"We told you about him, Hawk." B J Hunnicutt didn't look up from his operating field. "You remember when you were assigned to the 8063rd for a week? Dupree was your exchange replacement."

Pierce nodded. "Ah, yes. The midnight ride of Roy Dupree."

"My Sophie still hasn't recovered from that ride," Colonel Potter contributed.

"MacAllister is thorough," Winchester continued. "This is an excellent preparation for an arterial graft."

"She called this diagnosis right, too," Hunnicutt added. "That glass fragment is hooked on the orbital socket. It's tricky."

"I'm almost done with this shoulder," Potter told him. "Need some help?"

"Not yet. Maybe." The doctor concentrated on his surgery.

"I think she's unorthodox; I mean, coming in with a combat unit," Major Houlihan commented. "And she did more field treatment than she should have, as well."

"Don't forget the sidearm, Margaret," Major Winchester added helpfully.

"That's right," Captain Pierce joined in. "What was she doing with a weapon, anyway?"

"Simmer down, cowboy," Potter ordered. "Let's hear what her reasons were first---before you have her run out of town."

Colonel Potter stepped away from his table as his patient was removed to the recovery room. "Winchester, how are you and Pierce doing over there?"

"Coming along nicely, Colonel," the surgeon reported.

"I'm finished here," Doctor Hunnicutt informed him. "Do you want me to operate on our new nurse?"

"Not yet. I want to talk to the Australian, first. Klinger!"

"You bellowed, My Colonel?" Corporal Klinger appeared at the OR doors with a surgical mask held over his face.

"Bring in Lieutenant Cochlan."

"Right away, sir. As fast as my camel can carry me."

"Just bring in the patient," the senior officer advised. Raising his eyes skyward, Colonel Potter muttered, "I'm the one who needs the Section Eight."

The Australian officer was helped onto the operating table. Potter gave his instructions to his nurse and then spoke to the soldier, "Lieutenant, I'd like to talk to you while I treat your injuries---if that is all right with you."

"Certainly, sir," the younger man agreed. "Are my men going to be all right? How's Glennis's leg?" he asked, worriedly.

"They're going to be fine. Now, about Lieutenant MacAllister..."

"It's my fault---about the pistol---sir." Cochlan acknowledged that responsibility. "After the battle, we tuck-tailed out of there so fast, she never had the chance to return it to me."

"What was she doing with a weapon in the first place?" Hawkeye Pierce demanded.

"Our lorry was ambushed about ten miles back," the lieutenant explained. "One man was killed during the initial attack. Another man was down. They were trying to pin us down in a crossfire. So I put her in the safest location I could find, left her my gunbelt and tried to lead the fighting away from her."

Angrily, the dark-haired doctor interjected, "You left her -alone- behind enemy lines! How could you do that?"

"I couldn't bloody well take her with me!" Cochlan replied stiffly as he tried to contain his irritation.

"Stay still, Lieutenant," his surgeon cautioned. "You may get your eyelid pierced if you jump around like that while I'm suturing."

"Colonel, I had a job to do," the soldier stated. "I didn't like leaving her there. But I had no choice."

"I understand. I just don't like my nurses being exposed to a shooting gallery."

"Our Army Intelligence indicated the road was clear. I thought she would be far safer with us than back there at Kimhbede with those fly boys."

"Army Intelligence--that's an oxymoron--if I ever heard one," Pierce muttered.

"What happened at Kimhbede?" Colonel Potter asked.

"Bad business, that." The soldier frowned. "We had pulled into the base around 0500 hours, for some tucker, when we noticed these fly boys all over her like a pack of dingoes after a woolie. They had her cornered. And were pawing at her. And were saying some of the filthiest things to her."

"That's terrible!" Major Houlihan exclaimed with indignation. "No nurse should have to put up with that!"

"My men and I felt the same way. We pulled her out of there. She welcomed our offer of a ride. We stayed long enough for her to change from her dress uniform into her fatigues and then we headed here."

"I don't like the sound of that---not one bit! I'll check into that," Colonel Potter spoke. "Cochlan, I'm grateful to you for taking care of MacAllister. I want you to stay for overnight observation. We'll find some place for the rest of your men to sleep."

"Yes, sir. I'll need to contact my CO."

"Of course," the officer agreed. "Talk to my company clerk, Klinger. Oh, and one more thing, son. I noticed that some of your men weren't injured---and we could use the blood."

"Glad to help, Colonel. Just tell me where you want us."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. Major Houlihan, your nurses can finish in here; take charge of the blood donations."

"Yes, Colonel. This way, Lieutenant." The nurse helped him to stand.

He resisted her pull to face the older man. "Colonel Potter, two of my men would be dead right now, if not for MacAllister. She pulled my corporal out of the line of fire, treated his injuries and stood guard over him until we returned. And, on the way here, she kept Private Glennis from bleeding to death. I'm putting her in for a Commendation of Bravery medal."

"Sounds like she deserves it," the senior officer agreed. "And we have kept her waiting long enough. Bring in Lieutenant MacAllister."

A corpsman wheeled the young woman into the OR.

"Table for one, over here," Captain Hunnicutt called. He studied the x-rays as she was being helped onto the table. "Ginger, I want a local applied to her arm." He informed his surgical nurse. "I'll start on the glass extraction when it takes effect."

He smiled at his patient. "Welcome to the 4077th, Lieutenant. I'm your maitre d' for the afternoon. May I recommend the house specialty?"

"Which is?" she asked with a grin.

"Sutures ala Hunnicutt."

"Sounds delicious, sir. I'll have some," Sarabeth MacAllister replied. She was enjoying this friendly exchange.

"Uh oh, here comes the manager of this place," Hunnicutt stage-whispered as the colonel approached.

The young woman straightened. "Colonel Potter, sir. I'm Lieutenant MacAllister." She looked at her disheveled appearance and said, with a lopsided grin, "I reckon I'm not exactly ready for duty, but I am here."

"Glad to have you safe in the corral, Lieutenant," Potter answered. "You've had a busy day."

"That I have, sir."

"I leave you in the very capable hands of Captain Hunnicutt. After he's through with you, and after you've had a chance to get back into uniform, I'd like to see you in my office."

"Yes, sir."

"Tilt your head back some more," Doctor Hunnicutt directed, returning her attention to him. "That's better. I don't have too many patients who are upright while I'm operating on them."

Sarabeth MacAllister laughed. She was sitting on the table with most of her weight resting on one elbow. "And I don't often see surgery from this angle, either, sir," she told him with an amused smile.


	6. 6

_**AN:** Sorry for the long delay, folks, but life got in the way. Here are the next five chapters to make up for it. :) I hope y'all enjoy._

_Many thanks go out to Dierdre, Jazz-TheMaddTexan and Jade Dagger for their very kind reviews. _

* * *

SIX

* * *

Oct. 2nd: 1730 hours

Walking carefully on crutches, Lieutenant MacAllister stepped inside the company clerk's office and stared in amazement at the mess. Papers were stacked, haphazardly, on every surface. Some were scattered on the floor. Corporal Klinger was at the desk. He was digging through a stack of reports, obviously searching for something.

"Corporal, I thought you were a medic," she noted.

"I am, Lieutenant. I'm also the company clerk. And does anyone think about that? That I have two jobs? No-o-o," the man complained. "They just say---Klinger, you moron, you plant life---where's my report? Where's my requisition? Radar had this office running smoothly. But you---you can't even find the office!"

"Sounds like you could use some help," the young woman observed.

"I sure could!"

"After I've finished talking with the colonel, I'll help," MacAllister volunteered.

"No, that's OK, Lieutenant." Klinger smiled at her. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be telling my troubles to you."

"Why not?" she asked with a smile before changing topics. "So, how do I go about getting some more furniture for my tent?"

"You tell the stupid company clerk what you want and then he requisitions it...provided he can find the forms."

"Wrong answer, Corporal," MacAllister corrected him. "I tell the very clever company clerk who can work miracles, that I'd like a desk, a chair and a lamp."

"And maybe a couple more chairs and a small table?" he suggested, feeling more cheerful.

She laughed. "I reckon I wouldn't object. And," she handed him a sheet of paper, "while you're being so generous, I'd like for you to make a couple of calls for me. Please call this one, first. Tell whoever answers that the youngest one is at the 4077th and that everything is all right. Then call the number in Texas. My folks think I'm still at Fort Bracken in California."

"I'll get on it right away, Lieutenant."

"Thanks, Corporal. May I see the colonel now, O Talented Son of the Desert?"

"Of course, My Queen."

* * *

Klinger held the door for her. "Thank you," she said as she entered the colonel's office. Lieutenant MacAllister stopped in front of his desk. She nodded to the officers present. Captains Pierce and Hunnicutt were slouched in their chairs. Major Winchester was sitting upright in his. Major Houlihan, with her arms crossed, was sitting near them.

"Colonel Potter," MacAllister said, "now, I'm reporting for duty."

The nurse was looking better. She had taken a shower, had brushed and braided her hair and had changed into fatigues that were not splattered with blood.

"Here are my papers, sir."

"You see, Colonel," Captain Pierce spoke. "I told you she was _paper trained_."

"Even better, sir," MacAllister answered him mischievously. "I know how to scratch at the door when I want out."

"Speaking of out, would the four of you close my door on your way out?" the colonel asked.

"OK, but we're leaving our fleas behind," Pierce announced as the officers left.

"Sit down, Lieutenant," Potter directed. The woman maneuvered her crutches, pulled up a chair and sat down. "You've adapted to those quite well."

"I've had to use them on occasion," MacAllister replied with a rueful grin. She noticed the pictures on his walls. "What magnificent horses!"

"Yes, they are spectacular." Colonel Potter began telling her about his animals. After a few minutes, however, he broke off the conversation. "I'm enjoying this. But we need to talk business."

He scanned her file. "I requested someone with experience to be my head nurse's second-in-command. Your record is impressive: high marks in school, with an extra year of specialized surgical residency. Almost immediately afterwards, you were assigned as head surgical nurse over three hospitals---all at the same time." He looked up at her. "That must have been difficult."

The lieutenant nodded. "Yes, sir. We didn't have enough personnel to fully staff all three rural district hospitals. So we had to rotate between them. It was quite a juggling act, some times."

"I can see where it would be. Lieutenant, you have the experience I'm looking for. My doctors speak highly of your abilities. And we need another good surgical nurse."

Apprehensively, MacAllister looked at him. "There's a '_however_' in that statement, isn't there, sir?"

"Very perceptive. Concerns have been expressed that you take too much upon yourself---doing treatment that should be left to the doctors."

"Sir, my hospital territory covers a lot of square miles. Sometimes, its hours before a surgeon can arrive. I'm used to doing whatever is necessary, until he gets to the hospital. However, since the doctors are already here, I will try not to work too hard."

Potter smiled as he caught her irony. "That is not the only concern, Lieutenant. The main objection is the condition of your ankle..."

"Colonel, it's not that bad!"

He held up his hand and she subsided. "We need able-bodied people here. This is strenuous work. If your ankle isn't reliable, then we can't count on you when we might need you the most."

"Sir, no matter what condition my ankle is in, I will always do what is expected of me!"

"I believe that. But you have more than a simple sprain. You've damaged that old injury, again. You need corrective surgery. You could have that done and still be on staff, once you've recovered."

"Sure, in six to eight weeks---or longer," the lieutenant replied bitterly. "Sir, I requested a MASH unit because I thought I could do some good here. Please don't send me away before I even have the chance to work in one."

MacAllister continued, "I've lived with this ankle for years. In two or three days, the swelling will go down and a walking cast can be set. The cast will be on for a couple of weeks. After that, all I have to do is to keep it wrapped and elevated whenever possible."

"I may not be able to carry a litter right now. But I can work OR, pre-op and post-op. Please, Colonel. Give me three weeks before you decide to transfer me!"

"Lieutenant, most of the people around here beg me to allow them toleave---not to stay."

"I'd like to stay, sir."

"All right. I'll grant you three weeks. I think you'll make a fine addition to an already excellent staff. You may find them a little strange, but they're a good bunch."

MacAllister's smile was radiant. "Thank you, sir! I won't let you down!"

"Good. Now, tell me about Kimhbede. According to my records, you aren't supposed to arrive here until tomorrow."

"I was bumped up a couple of flights in California," the Texan explained. "I arrived at Kimhbede base around 0400 hours this morning. I couldn't arrange any kind of transportation until 0900 hours tomorrow. So, when Lieutenant Cochlan offered me a ride, I jumped at the chance. I knew it was risky; but it was better than having to stay at there any longer."

"I hear you had some trouble with the pilots."

"I know an Australian with a big mouth." MacAllister shrugged. "They just wouldn't take no for an answer, sir."

"Where was their CO during all of this?"

"Right in there amongst them, sir," the lieutenant answered. "Colonel, I'd rather drop the matter. My brother's a helicopter pilot stationed at Kimhbede. I don't know what kind of repercussions he may face."

"Surely he wouldn't want his sister to be treated that way."

"No, sir. But I know that, if Fannin finds out what happened, he'll retaliate. So, I don't want to raise a ruckus about it. I do have a request, however," she told him with a sly smile.

"And what is that?"

"Those pilots tore my dress uniform blouse. I'd rather not have to pay for another one."

Potter responded with a smile of his own. "Lieutenant, I know a base CO who is going to be very happy to purchase another blouse for you."

* * *

Klinger knocked at the colonel's door. "Excuse me, Colonel. Lieutenant MacAllister, your call to Texas has gone through."

"May I be excused, sir?" she asked. "My folks think I'm still in California. I asked the corporal if I could contact them and let them know where I am."

"Of course, Lieutenant. After your call, I want you to report to your tent and elevate that foot."

"Yes, sir. Thanks again, Colonel."

* * *

"...Mama, I have to go. I love y'all both. Tell everyone I said hello and to write to me. Yes, I'll be careful. Love y'all. Bye." The young woman stood quietly, thinking about her family, before she sighed and handed the phone back to the company clerk.

"Thanks, Corporal." She yawned and shook her head. "All of a sudden, I'm tired. I know I said I'd help you this afternoon...but, can it wait until morning?"

"Hey, Lieutenant. You don't have to help me get out of this mess."

"I want to. Captain Hunnicutt won't release me for duty for three days. I can sit over here and work with you just as easily as I can sit and stare at the canvas walls of my tent. See you later, Corporal."

"Looking forward to it, ma'am."


	7. 7

SEVEN

* * *

Oct. 2nd: 2030 hours

Outside Lieutenant MacAllister's tent, the human babble was quieting down. Inside her tent, the heater was gradually warming the room. Under the blanket, the woman was drifting off to sleep. Once again, there was a knock on her door frame.

With a sigh, she sat up, pulled on her robe, tied the sash around her waist and reached for her crutches. "Who is it?" she asked as she hobbled to the door.

"Hawkeye Pierce," was the answer from outside. "May I come in?"

MacAllister opened the door a crack. She grinned up at the man. "Not without MPs being present, sir. Your reputation has preceded you."

"It's OK. I just want to talk to you. Look...I left my other six arms back at the Swamp."

She laughed and opened the door wider. "Come on in."

Pierce stepped inside and stood near the heater. He looked around at the bare interior. "Nice. I like the Early Nothing decor."

"I'd offer you a chair, except I don't have one." MacAllister grinned. "Corporal Klinger's promised me some more furniture."

"Don't expect any before the next war," he advised. "I brought you some 'welcome wagon' gifts. They're from B J and me." Hawkeye showed her the contents of the small box he held.

MacAllister used the opportunity to observe him. He was wearing a purple bathrobe over his green fatigues. His battered Stetson made him appear even taller. His hair was grayer than she had first thought. And worry lines creased his face. Even though he needed a shave, he was a handsome man, especially when he smiled.

He was smiling at her now.

"It's not much, but we wanted you to know how glad we are to have you here."

"Thanks, Captain. I really appreciate your thoughtfulness."

"Call me Hawkeye. It's from The Last ..."

"Of the Mohicans." The woman finished his sentence for him. '_The eyes_ _of this hunter were quick, keen, and restless_...' she quoted.

"You've read it! That is my dad's favorite book. He always calls me that." Pierce grinned broadly. He was elated that she knew the source of his nickname.

"I do hope your real name is not Natty Bumppo," the Texan teased.

He laughed in delight. "No. Thanks goodness! I'm Benjamin Franklin Pierce."

"Are you named for the statesman or the president?" Sarabeth questioned.

"Both. My dad was feeling very patriotic that day," Hawkeye joked. His expression changed. "I also came over to see if you were all right." He told her in complete seriousness. "Really all right. I know you've had a rough time, today. Having to fight off your own troops, being shot at by the Chinese, having to treat the wounded in a battle zone, being yelled at by me..."

She nodded at his last words. They had already exchanged apologies in the operating room. "I have had better days," she acknowledged. "However, other than my ankle hurting and being homesick...I'm OK. Thanks for asking, Hawkeye."

"Make sure you take the analgesics B J prescribed," the doctor directed and added, "Sarabeth, everyone has to find their own way to cope with this madness. But I want you to know that I'm here and I'd like to help you. Any time you want to talk, or need a shoulder to cry on, or just someone to shout at...come find me. I promise I won't try anything, either."

"Until you're feeling better, that is," he informed her with a lecherous smirk. "And then, Lieutenant, since you have an incredible body, I intend for us to do some incredible things together."

"Perhaps this would be an appropriate time to mention that I have two brothers stationed nearby. Two very large, very protective brothers," she informed him with a light-hearted grin.

"I'll keep that in mind." The man reached to smooth a tendril of hair away from her face. He ignored her eyebrows lifted in warning. "Whenever you need me, Sarabeth. You're a bright light in a dark world. I'd prefer neither of us were in Korea, but I'm glad that you are here at the 4077th."

"Thank you, Hawkeye. It means a lot to me to know that there are people here who care about me. I come from a loving, supportive family. And everyone who has stopped by tonight has really helped me. I appreciate all the concern and the warmth people have shown."

"Around here, you need all the warmth you can get---from any source." Pierce told her. "And I happen to know this doctor who has discovered this incredible way for two people to keep warm." He gave her another inviting smile.

Amused, she asked, "This doctor wouldn't happen to be named Pierce, would he?"

"By some amazing coincidence, yes."

"Amazing," Sarabeth laughed as they moved towards her door. "Good night, Hawkeye. I appreciate the goodies." With more solemnity, she added, "Thank you for offering to help me survive this place."

* * *

Oct. 3rd: 0500 hours

The silence in the woman's tent was once again broken by a knock on the door frame. MacAllister woke with a start. "Don't these people ever sleep?" she grumbled. Once again, she climbed off her cot, tied the robe around her waist and struggled to the door. "Who is it?"

"Major Winchester," came the reply. "Lieutenant, may I speak to you?"

Sarabeth opened the door. "What can I do for you, sir?" she asked with a yawn.

The officer's smile faded. He looked dismayed. "I completed my post-op duty a short time ago and I noticed your light. I...I thought you were awake." He drew a deep breath. "My apologies, Lieutenant, for disturbing you."

MacAllister smiled at him. "No need for apologies, sir. I'm usually awake long before now. I just had the light on all night to keep the darkness at bay." She shivered. While she had been sleeping, the temperatures had dropped and the winds had increased.

"Major, it's warmer in here than out there. Come on in."

They walked over to the small heater. Winchester held his hands near the flames.

"They tell me the Korean winters are brutal," Sarabeth spoke as she warmed her hands by the fire, as well.

"So I have been informed. I've only been sequestered here in this slimy sewer for five months. The summer was atrocious, however. Certainly not like the many splendid summers I have spent at our Cape Cod house."

MacAllister understood why Kellye Tanakhamara considered him stuffy. He did have a pompous manner that bordered on arrogance. Still, she liked him. Smiling to herself, she changed the subject. "How is Private Glennis's leg, sir?"

"His toes are warm and he can move that foot. The prognosis is good." He looked at her curiously. "Tell me, Lieutenant, would you have completed that arterial transplant by yourself?"

"If I had had to, sir. Luckily, the hospital was close enough so that all I had to do was to get it ready for y'all."

"That was an excellent graft preparation," Winchester remarked. "Incidentally, I have something for you." He pulled a bottle from the pocket of his lab coat and handed the container to her.

She read the label out loud. "_Hair tonic_?" She looked at him in astonishment. Involuntarily, her eyes traveled to the top of his balding head. The corner of her mouth quivered. MacAllister had to hurriedly avert her eyes to give herself time to regain her composure.

"It is not what you think," he informed her stiffly. "You are holding a bottle of a superior Madetta Peach Brandy. I only placed that marvelous elixir in this container to keep Pierce from guzzling it."

"I see." Sarabeth tilted her head and asked, with a mischievous grin, "What's in the brandy decanter?"

Winchester merely raised his eyebrows in reply.

"So..." She was still having difficulty keeping her face expressionless. "I take it that Captain Pierce is unaware of this switch?"

"You are correct."

MacAllister gave up trying to control her laughter. Winchester enjoyed watching her. Very few people recognized that he had a sense of humor.

"Thanks, Major. I needed a good laugh," she told him merrily.

"I shall, of course, deny ever having had this conversation," he noted.

"What conversation?" she asked with a countenance that betrayed nothing.

The major nodded his approval. He continued to moved his hands over the heater's warmth. "Lieutenant," he considered his words, "probably better than anyone else, I know how difficult it is to adapt to this despicable place. It can be very lonely here without someone to talk to...I know that from experience. Therefore, I would like to extend my assistance to you. Should you feel the need to talk, I am quite willing to listen." He watched her, trying to gauge her reaction. He didn't make overtures like that very often.

The woman could tell his offer was sincere. She smiled up at him. "Having someone who is willing to listen is a wonderful gift. Thank you. I'm going to need someone to talk to."

For a few minutes, a comfortable silence fell between then as they stared into the flames, Then, from the corner of her eye, MacAllister noticed that Winchester was rubbing his fingers and grimacing in pain. With gentle compassion, she inquired, "Major, do your hands hurt?"

Startled, he quickly placed his hands in the pockets of his jacket. "No," Winchester said as he turned away. "The cold wind was blowing on them, that's all."

"Are you sure, sir?"

"That is the only possible explanation, Lieutenant!" The man answered with an edge to his voice. He was adamant in his refusal.

"Very well, sir," she agreed, neutrally. "So where are your gloves?"

"I..." He was embarrassed. "I lost them in a poker game."

"With winter coming on?" MacAllister shook her head in exasperation. "_Men_!" she muttered as she rummaged through one of her gift packages. "Here." She handed him a pair of woolen gloves.

"I can not take your gloves," he declared.

"This is an extra pair. I don't need them. And you do."

"This is unnecessary." The major tried to return them to her.

"No. They are on loan to you."

He tried again to return them.

"Take them!" the woman insisted with a touch of irritation emerging from her drawl.

Winchester studied her expression. "I see that the corollary between red hair and temperament does indeed hold true. You are ..." he searched for an appropriate word, "Determined. Aren't you, Lieutenant?" he asked in dry amusement.

Her anger disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. With a slightly embarrassed grin, she admitted, "People have called me hard-headed on occasion." She paused before adding, "Of course, they were wrong."

"Of course." With a small smile, Winchester agreed. He pulled on the gloves and buttoned his jacket. "Lieutenant, thank you for the loan of your gloves. I shall return them."

"You're welcome, sir. Thank you for the brandy. And for the joke on Captain Pierce. Laughter is a good _tonic_, you know."

He groaned. "Not another one who likes puns." The officer sounded as if he were in pain, but he smiled at her.

"Well," she confessed, "I have been known to _pun_-ish people."

"Hunnicutt is going to relish talking to you." As he caught the sparkle in her eyes, he raised his hand to prevent her from speaking. "Please, Lieutenant. Do not say anything about pickles or onions."

"Aw, Major." MacAllister protested. "That's not fair! You give me such a wonderful line and then you won't let me use it."

"I am quite certain other opportunities will arise."

"I'm sure they will." She laughed. "Major Winchester, I'm going to enjoy working with you."

"And I shall enjoy working with you. Goodbye, Lieutenant."

"Goodbye, sir."


	8. 8

EIGHT

* * *

Oct. 3rd: 0500 hours

_Dear Dad,_

_Normally, I'm not stirring this time of day. However, Charles managed to wake me as he came into the Swamp, rummaged through his footlocker and left again. He just finished his six hour post-op shift. Now, I suspect he's off to visit our new nurse._

_That was our one bright spot, yesterday. An Australian troop truck came into camp. Riding in the back of the vehicle, with the soldiers, was a young woman. The very first thing I noticed was her hair. Such an unusual color! It reminded me of a new penny with its mixture of reds and golds. _

_From her uniform and insignia, it was obvious that she was an American nurse. _

_She had grease smeared across her forehead and lacerations on her face, neck and arm. She was covered with blood---both from her own injuries and from the wounded men. _

_As we were unloading the wounded, she asked for Charles Winchester's help in climbing down. Since she had injured her ankle, he had to help her walk to the hospital. I would have liked to have that job, myself. However, we had wounded to tend to, so..._

_While in pre-op, I could see the freckles sprinkled across her nose and cheeks beneath the grime. I never thought freckles were all that appealing until I saw them on Sarabeth._

_That's her name: Sarabeth MacAllister. She proudly hails from a small town in Texas called Big Oak. I wish you could hear her speak. She takes a one syllable word and stretches it into a four or five syllable word. Her voice is pleasing to the ear. My ears, especially._

_She's is a very good nurse, too. Not only did she prepare three severely injured men for surgery, while working from the back of a fast moving truck, but she was in enemy territory, at the time, as well._

_I look forward to getting to know her better. Having her around for one day has already made this place more bearable. _

_Speaking of making this place more bearable, I'm still trying to think of some thing to cheer up B J---my best friend in the whole world. His daughter, Erin, is growing so fast. And he hates missing all of the important times in her life. Every time he gets a letter from Peg, telling him that the car needed to be worked on, or that the gutters needed cleaning, he agonizes over not being there for her. And for Erin. _

_Maybe the Halloween costume party BJ and I are planning will help. We're also hoping to have some competing activities between our outfit and the 8063rd. Things like: water glove tossing; bobbing for nurses; a doctor's kissing booth. It should be fun...if all the well-armed forces around here will lay down their arms for a few hours._

_Unfortunately, in this insane asylum called Korea, the injured men, women and children always keep coming...and coming. At all times of the day and night, they are brought in: by helicopter, by ambulance, by truck, by jeep, even by ox cart. And they never stop coming. _

_Have I mentioned lately how much I hate this place?_

_Keep writing to me every chance you get, Dad. Your letters about the happenings around Crabapple Cove help even more than you'll ever know. _

_Your son,_

_Hawkeye_


	9. 9

NINE

* * *

Oct. 3rd: 0600 hours

Despite the chilly temperature, Sarabeth MacAllister was outside her quarters, enjoying her first Korean sunrise. Afterwards, she hobbled throughout the medical compound, exploring her new surroundings. "Even Big Oak is bigger than this place," she noted in amusement.

Hearing pounding footsteps behind her, the woman turned to see the healthy members of the Australian squad running laps. As they passed by her, they called out their greetings. Mitch Cochlan, leaving his men to continue their exercises, jogged in place beside the woman. "G'day, Texas," he said with a grin. "You don't look like something the dog refused to eat today!"

"You have got to get those eyes checked, Outback," she retorted. "Chasing kangaroos this morning?"

"Beats camels," he answered. Her laughter accompanied him as he moved to rejoin the others.

* * *

Still smiling at the soldier's words, MacAllister entered the mess tent. Two of the enlisted men were sitting on benches inside the eating area. She talked to them for a few minutes before moving over to meet a dark-haired woman who was leaving the serving line. Good-naturedly, she approached the other nurse. "Howdy. My name's Sarabeth."

"They're saying you were attacked at Kimhbede," the brunette sneered curtly. "But I'm beginning to wonder."

"What do you mean?" the Texan asked in confusion.

"Well, those Australians out there won't speak to, or even look at, anyone else except you. And, the way I hear it, Hawkeye practically spent the whole night in your tent. After he left, Major Winchester came over. Obviously, it doesn't take you very long to go through men."

"Just what are you implying?" MacAllister asked with alert casualness. One eyebrow was arched in quiet warning.

Ignoring that signal, the woman answered smugly, "I'm not implying anything. But since the shoe fits..."

"Oh, the shoe's going to fit, all right," the redhead replied with a sudden burst of anger. "It's going to fit right up your..."

"Good morning, ladies." A cheerful welcome cut across their conversation. A mild-mannered man wearing eyeglasses approached. "You must be our newest arrival. I'm Father Mulcahy." He smiled at the two of them.

With animosity visibly draining from her face, the nurse smiled back at the man. "Yes, sir. I'm Sarabeth MacAllister."

The priest gestured towards the area where the food was waiting. "May I help you with your tray?"

"Please. I was wondering how I was going to handle it, and crutches, too." She followed him to the serving tables without another glance for the other woman.

"How's the food around here?" Sarabeth was curious. "Is it edible?"

"Well," he answered with good humor, "I have found that prayer and a great deal of ketchup helps."

After they were seated, the woman quietly spoke to the clergyman. "Thanks for interceding, sir. Nothing like starting off on the wrong _foot_." MacAllister grinned before adding apologetically, "I'm sorry, Father. I do try to keep a tighter rein on my temper than that."

"It's quite all right, my child." Mulcahy was kind. "Our Lieutenant Parnelli can sometimes try the patience of a saint."

* * *

When Doctors Pierce and Winchester walked into the mess tent, they discovered their newest nurse and their camp chaplain involved in a lively discussion. With trays in hand, they moved towards that table.

"Well, well. MacAllister and Mulcahy. My two most favorite people in the middle of the alphabet," Pierce noted. "May we join you in the middle of your communion?"

"Sure." The woman smiled at them in welcome.

Captain Pierce sat on one side of her. His appearance hadn't changed much from the night before. Major Winchester sat on the other side of her. He was still impeccably dressed. There was a marked difference in their grooming habits. Grinning, until she noticed the food on their trays, MacAllister grimaced and shuddered. "Terrific. I'm surrounded by egg eaters."

"These are powdered eggs," the captain informed her. "They've never even seen a chicken."

"They are still eggs," she replied dryly. "Y'all know why I can't stand eggs?" she asked. She didn't give them a chance to respond. "Back home, 4:30 am, was always breakfast time. We'd be sitting around the kitchen table. And my mama would put this platter..." The Texan indicated the size of the plate with her hands. "Heaping full of fried eggs---all greasy and runny yolked---in front of us."

"That early in the morning, I was having trouble keeping down a glass of water while my brothers were all around me...gobbling and slurping that gooey mess. Just to torment me, they'd pass the platter---back and forth to each other---right under my nose..."

Lieutenant MacAllister stopped her narration and exclaimed in mild irritation, "Hawkeye, what on earth is the matter with you?"

With every word she had spoken, his grin had grown wider and wider with delight. "I'm enjoying listening to you talk. It's amazing how many extra syllables you can add to short words. That accent of yours makes me think of peach trees and magnolias," He explained.

"More like live oak trees and bluebonnets," Sarabeth drawled. "I'm from the great state of Texas---not Georgia."

"Tayexus. Geeorrgehah. There, you see? Listen to that. It's wonderful! Say something else!"

"Pay no attention to him, Lieutenant," Major Winchester spoke. "The man's an idiot!"

Whether by accident or design, the man's last words came as MacAllister finished her toast. Caught unprepared, she laughed, tried to cover it with a cough and began choking for real. She waved away their concern and wiped the tears from her eyes.

"Thanks a lot, Major!" The woman's smile lit up her entire face. "Yesterday, someone was shooting at me. Today, y'all are trying to choke me." She gave the men a gleeful grin. "I'm beginning to think someone doesn't want me here."

"Quick! Escape while you still can," Pierce urged.

"Too late. I've already unpacked," she joked. "But, this is the last time I take an economy class tour."

"I think I'm booked on the same tour," Hawkeye replied. "Is this the one where you see the cesspools, the mine fields, the olive drab everything?"

She nodded. "Sounds like my brochure."

"I'd demand my money back, if I were you."

"I will---if they continue to serve that for breakfast." She pointed to their plates. "Reckon I could convince the cook to serve cheese grits every now and then?"

Seeing their blank expressions, MacAllister laughed. "What? Y'all don't know what grits are?" She shook her head in pity. "I reckon I'll have to make allowances. After all, y'all can't help being _Yankees_!"

"Don't blame me," Father Mulcahy responded with a smile, "I'm from Philadelphia, myself."

"Now, see here!" Major Winchester protested at the same time.

"Pennsylvania is almost as bad," Sarabeth told the priest. She patted the major's arm. "That's OK, sir. I like you anyway."

Winchester started to reply just as Corporal Klinger called through the tent screen. "Lieutenant MacAllister! Lieutenant Cochlan asked me to tell you that he's ready to leave."

"OK. Thanks, Corporal. Will you tell him I'll be tottering along in a minute?" The nurse smiled at the men around the table. "Excuse me, sirs. I want to see him off."

Sarabeth pulled her crutches out from beneath the bench, slipped them under her arms and tried to stand. Moving to assist her, Major Winchester held her elbow until she found her balance. She gave him a bright smile in acknowledgment. Shifting her crutches to one arm, the woman reached for her tray.

"I shall take care of that, Lieutenant." The major removed the tray from her hand and placed it on the table. "I'd like to show you that Yankees," he uttered the word with distaste, "are good for something."

Pierce responded, "Yes, Charles. You make the perfect busboy."

Both MacAllister and Winchester ignored his remark.

"Well, I reckon Yankees can be good for something," The young woman teased. She added, "Thank you, sir. I appreciate the help."

Winchester walked her to the door and held it open for her. He remained, standing in the door frame, to watch her leave.

"Charles, close the door," Hawkeye called. "You're letting the flies out."

The man returned to the mess table and joined the others. "I do believe she will prove to be more beneficial to this outfit than good old Roy."


	10. 10

TEN

* * *

"I hear you're leaving us." MacAllister spoke to the Australian soldier who was smiling at her approach.

He nodded. "Time to get back to the front. We're needed there. Are you sure you don't want to come along?"

"I'm needed here," she said simply. "Mitch," she continued, "I'll look after Tom and the other two. You won't have to worry about them."

"I know you'll take care of them. You've been doing a good job so far."

"Make sure you keep your sutures clean," the nurse instructed. "I don't want you to get an infection and mar that handsome face."

"I will," Cochlan agreed. "Sarabeth, I occasionally get 24 hour leave. Would you mind if I spend that time with you?" He asked, uncertain of her reaction.

"I wouldn't mind a bit," she told him with a bashful grin. "Thank you---for everything." Her hand caressed his face. "Be careful out there! I want to see you back here...standing up...not being carried in on a stretcher."

"Too right. Take care, lady."

"Take care, Mitch."

Sarabeth waved to him and his men as their truck left the camp.

* * *

Oct. 3rd: 0800 hours

Lieutenant MacAllister stepped into Klinger's office. "OK, Corporal, are you ready for me to help you with this?"

"Sure, Lieutenant." The man shrugged. "If you really want to. But, where do you start?"

"It's like triage. You just jump in somewhere and begin." She told him as she sat down in a chair and leaned her crutches against the desk. He pulled another chair over and placed a pillow on it for her foot. "Much better! Thanks, Corporal. Now then, the very first thing you need to do is---chunk Radar's system---whatever it was."

"How do I do that?"

"Any man who can teach a camel to sit up and beg, can throw out an outdated filing system. Here." Sarabeth held out an imaginary box.

"I get you," Klinger grinned. He opened the doors and 'threw' the box away. Wiping his hands on his pants, he turned to her. "I feel better already."

"I thought so. Now, go into the colonel's office and remove all of the things you have stored in there. That'll show him that you are trying to get organized and it'll make his office look better. Which ought to make him feel better."

Through the opened entrance to his office, Potter called to them, "I agree with your assessment, Lieutenant. Klinger, come get this mess out of here."

"Right away, Colonel."

* * *

MacAllister and Klinger sorted and organized and talked. Sitting at his desk, completing his own work, Potter listened to their conversation. In a short time, he learned more about his company clerk than he had ever known. And he learned that his newest officer knew how to manage people and how to get things accomplished.

* * *

Coming from the hospital ward, Major Houlihan entered the company clerk's office. The red-haired nurse smiled and greeted her ranking officer. The major briskly spoke to the other woman, "Lieutenant, I understand you were in post-op earlier this morning."

"Yes, ma'am. I wanted to check on the Australians. I, of course, had the Surgeon on Duty---Doctor Hunnicutt's---permission," the Texan answered with extreme politeness. Her manner had become very formal.

"Since you are well enough to go on rounds, you can start learning the routines and procedures of this MASH unit. If you are to remain here, you'll be expected to follow them. Is that clear?"

"Perfectly clear, Major," the lieutenant replied with an even tone. "I certainly want to know what is expected of me."

"Good. Let's go."

MacAllister looked at the papers in her lap and the ones scattered about her chair. "Right now?"

"Yes, right now," Major Houlihan answered. "I have three hours open. You should be able to review everything several times before I go off duty. Come along, Lieutenant."

"Coming, Major." MacAllister reached for her crutches. She had a small shrug and a lopsided grin for the corporal. "Keep up the good work."

"Thanks, Lieutenant. I'll bring your furniture over this evening."

"I'd appreciate it."

"I'm waiting, Lieutenant."

"I'm coming, Major," the young woman replied politely.


	11. 11

ELEVEN

**_

* * *

_**

_**AN:** Many thanks go out to Jas-TheMaddTexan, Jenos-Idanian, Sg1niner, Kellylover, Charlie's Girl 4077 for their reviews. Thanks so much and I hope y'all enjoy these next few chapters. _:>)

* * *

Oct. 3rd: 1330 hours

"Mail call." Corporal Klinger knocked at the door of the surgeons's tent. After entering, he dispensed the letters that belonged to each man.

"Did you lose any this time, Corporal?" Major Winchester asked as he, very precisely, slit an envelope with a letter opener.

"Not this time, sir," the clerk answered. He lingered in the tent and pretended not to hear the major's dismissal. "Captain Hunnicutt, can I speak to you about our new nurse?"

"Klinger! And after all those training films, too," B J Hunnicutt teased.

"No way, sir!" the corporal proclaimed. "She's a lady."

"She is, indeed. What about Lieutenant MacAllister, Klinger?" the major asked. He set aside his mail to listen to the clerk.

"I think she's hurting more than she lets on. This morning, she was helping me straighten out the files in my office. Every now and then, she'd move wrong or something and she'd flinch and bite her lip. But when I asked her about it---she said she was fine and dandy."

"And then, when she came back from working with Major Houlihan, she was very pale and her hands were shaking. She did not look like she felt good. She said she was just hungry. When I offered to bring her something from the mess tent, the lieutenant said she would go to her quarters for a while, instead. She hasn't come back yet."

"What was she doing with Major Houlihan?" Hunnicutt questioned.

"The major told her that it was time for her to start learning the routines of this MASH unit."

"OK, Klinger. I'll make a tent call," Doctor Hunnicutt announced.

* * *

Carrying two chairs and a reading lamp across the compound was awkward. Corporal Klinger wasn't complaining, however. All of his discomfort was worth the smile that Lieutenant MacAllister gave him as she opened her door wide and stepped aside.

"Great! Now I won't have to sit on the floor. Or be in the dark!" The woman exclaimed. "Set those down in here." Klinger arranged the chairs and the lamp by the heater. She nodded approval. "Thanks, Corporal!"

"I'll be back in a few minutes with the other things, ma'am."

"There's no hurry."

"I've got the time, Lieutenant," Klinger said. He indicated a chair. "Why don't you sit down and rest?"

* * *

When the company clerk returned, he was carrying a small table and some empty creates. "These crates make great shelves," he informed her as he placed them on the floor of her tent.

"Thanks again," Sarabeth told him with a grateful smile.

"I'm still working on the desk. I can requisition one," he grinned at her, "now that I can find the forms! If I can't get one here in a couple of days, I'll acquire one for you."

"Wait a minutes, Corporal. Please don't take anyone else's desk. Or, at least," she teased, "don't get caught doing it."

"Who me?" he bragged. "I'm from Toledo. Nobody's going to catch me, Lieutenant." Klinger joked with her. He liked the way her smile was back in her eyes.

"See that they don't. By the way, whenever we're off duty, I'm Sarabeth."

"I'm Klinger. Nobody calls me Max, except my mother...and Major Winchester...when he wants something."

MacAllister grinned. "Klinger," she asked, "were you the one who left those cloth flowers on my bed?"

The corporal looked embarrassed. "When I brought your gear over---it was so bare---with only the cot in here. And you had had such a bad experience. I cut that bouquet from one of my hats and left it for you. I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all! I walked in here...and saw all that emptiness...and then saw those bright colors. You don't know how much I needed that little gift! It was good to see something so cheerful. I really appreciate your thoughtfulness, Klinger. Thanks."

"Aw, you deserved it," the corporal said. He paused. "May I ask you something?" He quickly added, "You don't have to answer."

"Let's sit down first." She grinned. "In my new chairs."

MacAllister sat with her feet resting on her cot. She gave a small sigh of relief. She motioned for him to sit, as well. "OK, what do you want to know?"

The man was uncomfortable. "You don't have to answer this," he repeated.

"Understood," the woman said. "What's the question?"

"Why did Major Houlihan say if you were going to remain? I thought you were permanent."

"It's my ankle," she explained. "If I can't get it healed in three weeks, they're going to transfer me. And I don't want to go."

"You actually want to stay here!" He was incredulous.

"I sure do."

Klinger shook his head in disbelief. "With all due respect, ma'am, you're the one who should be trying to get a Section Eight."

MacAllister grinned. "Probably. But I..." She was interrupted by a knock on her tent door. "Would you get that, please? I don't feel like getting up."

"Sure." The man pushed the door slightly ajar and looked at the visitors. "It's the piano movers, Winchester and Hunnicutt," he reported. "Shall I let them in, ma'am?" He had taken on a haughty servant's tone.

The Texan had a merry laugh. "By all means, Jeeves."

Klinger opened the door and gestured grandly. "This way, gentlemen. The lady of the house will see you, now."

"Howdy, sirs." MacAllister smiled at the surgeons. "Come on in and have a seat." She told them as she moved over to her cot.

Both of the doctors drew their chairs closer to her bed as Klinger approached. "Shall I bring the paint, the hammer and the nails now, m'lady?"

"Yes, of course. And do tell Cook I want supper served promptly at seven."

"Very good, ma'am." Standing at stiff attention, the clerk bowed and left the tent.

Winchester was amused. "I have never seen yon Lebanese lackey so enthusiastic. How did you manage that?"

"All you have to do is compliment his camel," Sarabeth explained. "I would love to get a peek at his wardrobe. That has got to be fascinating!" She laughed and added, "So gentlemen, what brings y'all out to the MacAllister Ranch?"

Hunnicutt answered, "I've come to do an ankle check, Miss Sarabeth."

"Why? Is one missing?" She quipped.

"They do have a _tendon_-cy to disappear," B J returned with a smile.

"Did y'all hear about the tree surgeon who expanded his business?" she asked cheerfully. Not giving them a chance to reply, she continued, "He opened up a _branch_ office."

Without hesitation, the sandy-haired man answered with a pun of his own, "It must have been difficult to up-_root_ himself like that."

Sarabeth responded equally as quick. "No. It was something he had been _plant_-ing for a long time."

Major Winchester groaned.

B J grinned at the young woman. "Looks like Charles could use some re-_leaf _from our _stem_-ulating chat. Guess we'll get on with the business _afoot_."

"Yes, I reckon we should _toe_ the line," she agreed.

Becoming more professional, Hunnicutt carefully lifted her foot until it rested on his knee. As he examined it, he gently felt for the bones through the swollen tissue.

With a hiss of pain, Sarabeth reflexively tried to pull away from his grasp.

"Easy. Remain still," Major Winchester spoke to her. He held her leg steady as the captain continued his exploration.

"That ankle sure hasn't turned up missing," she whispered through clenched teeth.

"Did you stay off your feet, as I instructed, while you were reviewing the MASH routines with Major Houlihan? And did you take your pain medication on time?" her doctor asked. He knew that her answers would be negative.

MacAllister looked at him in surprise. "How do you know what I did this morning, sir?"

Hunnicutt shrugged, not revealing his source. "It's a small camp."

The major added, "Lieutenant, Major Houlihan is known for her diligence in preparing her nurses. However, she does realize the necessity of pain medication being taken when it is needed."

"I don't reckon I mentioned that need to her, sir," MacAllister answered with a calm Texas drawl.

"And why not?" Hunnicutt demanded.

"Captain, with no disrespect intended towards Major Houlihan---if you have a dog trying to tear out your throat---you don't pull down your collar to make it easier for him."

"Nonetheless, Lieutenant; if you do not allow your ankle to heal, you will not be allowed to remain with this outfit. Which, although I fail to understand why, is your stated intention."

"I know, Major," the lieutenant replied in an unhappy voice. "All right. I will do what's necessary to get this ankle reliable. I'll deal with any other problems later."

"Good. And to make it easier for you, I'll restrict you to the non-medical portions of this compound for the next two days," B J told her. "Unless Colonel Potter sends for you, you are not to set foot, or crutch, near the hospital. And you are to rest often."

"Understood, sir. You won't see hide nor hair of me over there." Sarabeth smiled and changed the subject. "By the way, I realize that it is a tradition for the newest arriving officer to buy the resident officers a drink. How about, after supper, we go over to the Officer's Club and I'll take care of that obligation?"

"Dinner," the major spoke.

"Pardon me?" MacAllister asked in confusion.

"The proper word for the evening meal is dinner," Winchester explained.

"The proper word for the evening meal is supper," Sarabeth corrected.

"Dinner."

"Supper," the lieutenant insisted.

"Dinner," the major refuted.

Smiling, B J asked, "Why do I feel like I'm watching a tennis match?"

"I reckon we are making a _racquet_." Sarabeth returned his smile. "Doctor Hunnicutt, will you lift the restrictions long enough for me to go over to the colonel's office to invite him and Major Houlihan?"

"Permission granted."

"Thank you, sir. I'll see y'all in the Officer's Club after supper, gentlemen."

* * *

MacAllister called to the men as they started back to their tent, "Hey. Y'all forgot to move my piano."

"We shall take care of it," Major Winchester replied with a smile. "After dinner."


	12. 12

TWELVE

* * *

Oct. 3rd: 1830 hours

"...This mossy-back steer was so big! I knew that---if he could break the girth strap on my cousin's saddle---he could do the same to mine. So I quickly wrapped a couple of coils of my rope around a scrub oak, to use it as a stubbing post, and braced my horse. Just as old 'Boot Leather' ran past me, I swung my lasso. I never was much good at dropping a loop on a steer, but this was Brian's only chance."

Lieutenant MacAllister talked to the officers who were sitting around the table. She took another swallow from her water glass before resuming her story.

"Luckily, I managed to heel him---to catch him by the hind feet. Cutting horses are trained to take the slack out of a rope---no matter how much the steer tries to move against it. Belle was a good cutting mare. As soon as my noose was on the steer, she started backing up."

"The trouble was, she was standing on a sandy incline. She was back-peddling vigorously---trying to regain her footing---but I could feel her legs slipping. I **_knew_** she was fixing to fall. I was standing up in the stirrups, ready to push out and away, so I wouldn't be caught underneath her."

"About that time, that longhorn hit the end of the rope. The impact jerked him to the ground. My horse stumbled. And I was sent flying over her head. I landed in the grass and tumbled several times before I could stop."

"I was groggy but I had to find where Boot Leather was. To my left, I could see Belle struggling to get back on her feet. To my right, I could see Brian. He still hadn't moved since he hit the ground. In front of me, I could see the steer."

"Surprisingly, the loop was still over one of his hocks. As soon as my horse could stand, I knew she'd start taking the slack out of the line again. I just had to stay out of his way in the meantime."

MacAllister was an excellent storyteller. Her gestures and descriptions were drawing her listeners into her tale. Others in the club were listening, as well. The tension was building.

"Boot Leather was getting to his feet about the same time I was getting to mine. He seemed kinda dazed, too. Shaking his head, the steer looked at Brian. He looked at Belle. And then he looked at me."

"He decided on me."

"With a bellow, he charged. I staggered up and managed to dodge his horns. He swerved and came at me again. I dove through an eagle's claw bush. I didn't even feel those thorns."

"Just as I landed, he broke through the brush and tried to hook me. I rolled. He came after me again. Somehow, he stepped on my ankle. I heard, and felt, this _CRUNCH_! And this 'fireball' hit me right smack dab between the eyes! After that, I didn't know anything!"

"I'm not sure why he didn't stomp on me while I was out. I think Belle must have been pulling on the rope by then. Either that, or my guardian angel had decided to step in."

"Some time later, I woke up with something licking my nose. I remember thinking: _Oh great! A coyote is fixing to eat my face!"_

"Turns out, it was one of our dogs." She grinned at the sighs of relief.

"My brothers were rounding up cattle in another part of the ranch. They **_knew_** something was wrong so they came looking for us. When they found us, they loaded us up in the back of the pickup truck and headed for the hospital."

Sarabeth paused and grinned. "Come to think of it, that wasn't the first time that I've been thrown in the back of a truck with the other wounded. It's obviously a reoccurring pattern in my life."

"Anyway, that's how I ended up with a built-in weather forecaster, Major Houlihan. I can feel the rain coming before I can see the rain clouds. However," MacAllister shrugged, "I've learned to live with it and to take care of it. But, when you're running for cover because someone is shooting at you, you forget little things---like babying an ankle."

"My goodness, Lieutenant," Father Mulcahy responded. "It certainly sounds like you had quite an adventure!"

"Oh, that was nothing compared to some of the medical disasters we've had, sir," the Texan answered. "With seven of us kids, and numerous cousins roaming the ranch, there was always some thing going on."

"Seven kids?" Captain Pierce asked in astonishment.

MacAllister nodded. "I had six older brothers. We were one year apart: we all had red hair: we all had green eyes: and we were all are left-handed."

Colonel Potter smiled. "Like peas in a pod."

"Exactly, sir."

"Six other MacAllister children." Major Winchester absorbed this information. "No doubt you and your brothers are similar in demeanor and temperament, as well."

"We are all...determined," she replied. "A rather formidable thought, isn't it?" Sarabeth grinned at him. She gathered her crutches. "Fellow officers, I thank y'all for the privilege of buying the first round. I realize that it is not that late. However, I reckon I'm going to follow my doctor's orders and get some rest. Good night."


	13. 13

THIRTEEN

* * *

Oct. 4th: 1500 hours

The next afternoon, the redheaded nurse was sitting outside her tent, gazing at the blue sky overhead and watching the camp activities. She smiled as she saw Major Winchester strolling towards her.

"Good afternoon, Lieutenant," he called to her.

"Howdy, major. It's a glorious day, isn't it?" she answered enthusiastically. "I love this time of year! Back home, when the air is cool like this, the horses start feeling frisky. The whole herd will come thundering by: neighing and prancing and kicking up their heels---just for the fun of it. I like to watch them run."

Seeing his amused expression, she said, "I reckon y'all don't have too many horse herds running loose in Boston, do y'all?"

"Not very many," he agreed. "Lieutenant, I was traveling to the mess tent for some coffee. May I bring you back a cup, as well?"

"Not you, too." MacAllister shook her head. "Major, I smell a conspiracy."

"Actually," he informed her, "judging from the wind direction, I would say that you are experiencing the effluvium from the garbage dump."

"There is something going on, sir. Every time I have set foot outside this tent, someone has come by to run errands for me. Klinger insisted on bringing me breakfast. Liza took my tray back to the mess tent. Kellye brought me a pitcher of water. Father Mulcahy brought me dinner. B J and Hawkeye stopped by to take that tray back. And now you're offering to bring me coffee."

"Merely coincidences, Lieutenant. Would you care for a cup of coffee?" he repeated his offer.

She laughed. Obviously, she wasn't going to get any answers from him. "Of course, they were all coincidences. Yes, Major. I would like some coffee---but only if you can stay awhile and talk."

"I can and I shall."

* * *

MacAllister opened the door as Winchester neared her tent. She observed the tray he was carrying. "I thought you were just going for coffee."

"I brought some sweet biscuits from my larder that I thought you might like."

"Bring them into the living room, sir." She pointed to the corner of her tent where she had arranged her chairs. "Go ahead and sit down."

The doctor placed the tray on the small table next to the cloth flower centerpiece. He looked at the additions to her quarters and commented, "I see you are remodeling."

"Yes, I thought I'd add a library to the east wing," she joked. Since he was still standing, she added, "Please, sir, sit down."

The major shook his head. "Civilization, as we know it, may be crumbling at our feet. However, Winchester chivalry is not yet extinct," he replied. With gentle courtesy, he took the crutches from her and helped her into a chair. He leaned her crutches against the canvas wall and pulled a crate closer to her position before taking his own seat.

MacAllister propped her feet on the packing crate. Her smile was brilliant. "Thank you, Major Winchester."

"You may call me Charles, if you like. Anytime we're off duty, of course."

She smiled again. "Only if you will call me Sarabeth."

"Agreed." The man smiled back at her. "Sarabeth is a lovely name. I don't believe I have ever heard it before, however."

"You probably haven't. Before I was born, my mama declared, that while she was proud to have her children named for people important in Texas history, she was going to name this baby after my daddy's mama, Sara, and after her mama, Beth." The woman grinned. "Luckily, I turned out to be a girl."

"Luckily," he agreed. "Sarabeth is a very pretty name for a very pretty lady." Winchester raised his mug to her in salute. "Here's to stronger ankles."

"And to more civilized worlds," MacAllister responded. She tasted the hot drink and winced. "This coffee is thick enough to plow."

* * *

Sitting with her, eating cookies, drinking coffee and sharing experiences, Winchester discovered that he was enjoying himself. He hadn't realized how much he had missed friendly conversation.

* * *

"Tell me, Charles, if y'all don't watch the horses run in the fields, what do y'all do for entertainment in Boston?"

"Y'all," he mused. "How strange is the language. To me, Sarabeth, yawl, is a two-masted sailing vessel."

"Do you sail?"

Winchester gazed into the distance, remembering. "I haven't sailed in years. I used to---every time I could get away. It was exhilarating to feel the wind catch the sails and dance the ship over the waves." Realizing he had revealed too much about himself, he stopped abruptly and waited for the expected derision.

The woman, however was nodding her head in approval. "Dance the ship over the waves...I like that." With a smile, she added softly: '_I must go down to sea again, to the lonely sea and the sky_...'

'_And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by_...' the major whispered the next line. He looked at her in surprise. "You know poetry, Sarabeth?"

With anger in her voice, she answered, "Just because I was raised on a cattle ranch doesn't mean that I'm ignorant!"

"**NO**!" the man protested. "No," he repeated in a calmer tone. "I never intended to imply that! It is simply that---here---no one is interested in poetry. I had given up hope that any one, other than myself, would ever appreciate the beauty or the power of the emotions contained within a poem."

"Exactly," MacAllister agreed. "I reckon that's why I like poetry so much...because they say many things to me." With visible feeling, she recited the next two lines of the poem:

'_And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking_,

_And a gray mist on the sea's face and a gray dawn breaking_.' (John Masefield)

Major Winchester had closed his eyes and was listening with pleasure to her recitation. When he opened his eyes, they were glistening. He leaned forward in his chair and grasped both of her hands. "My dear," he said as he gently squeezed her hands in gratitude, "you have thrown a rope to a man clinging to the edge of a cliff."

Suddenly aware of what he was doing, the surgeon self-consciously moved away. Tactfully shifting positions, MacAllister reached for another chocolate biscuit. She concentrated on it until he was settled back into his chair.

Raising her eyes to meet his, smiling, she asked, "Charles, will you read some of your favorite poems to me, sometime? Hearing poetry recited is the best way to enjoy it." She grinned, adding mischievously, "If it isn't too much of an _ode_-deal for you."

He sighed. "Enduring your puns is an ordeal, Sarabeth. However, sharing some of my favorite passages with you will be a pleasure."

* * *

Their talk eventually switched back to the medical fields. They were in the midst of an intense discussion on surgical procedures when the major glanced at his watch.

"Good heavens! Where has the time gone? As much as I would like to stay, Sarabeth, it is almost time for me to begin rounds." The man closed the lid on the tin of chocolate treats. "I'd like to leave these here, if I may. We can finish them the next time I bring you some coffee."

"Besides," she added, "it will keep Hawkeye out of them."

"That thought also occurred to me. Thank you, Sarabeth for transporting me out of this leper's colony---even if only for a few hours."

"I enjoyed it, too, Charles. Please come back again."

"Certainly." He looked at the tray on her table. "Lieutenant MacAllister, would you like for me to return this to the mess tent?"

"Major Winchester, coincidentally, I would like for you to return this tray." Her face was neutral but he could see the laughter in her eyes.

"Very well then, I shall." Tray in hand, he exited with stately dignity. But Sarabeth caught a glimpse of his smile as he left.


	14. 14

FOURTEEN

* * *

Oct. 5th: 0600 hours

Corporal Klinger knocked at Lieutenant MacAllister's tent door a second time. "There's no one home," a feminine drawl informed him. Klinger turned to see the Texan bobbing along on her crutches. Returning from the nurse's shower, she had a bright smile for the company clerk.

"Howdy, Klinger! You're too late. Corporal Goldman already brought me breakfast."

"I know. I asked him to stop by. I was waiting for a call from Seoul. They're sending you a desk with the mail truck today!" he announced.

"Great! I've got the spot already picked out." She smiled at him. "Klinger, I'm going to Father Mulcahy's church service in a few minutes. Will you have time to stop by the ranch house and visit after that?"

"Not this morning, Sarabeth. I'm catching up on my reports. Now that I can find them, I have to write them!"

MacAllister chuckled. "See what you get for being organized?"

"It was worth it. I can actually see the top of my desk again!" he joked. "I also came over to tell you that the Australians are being sent out on an evac. bus some time this morning. I'm going to have the driver stop by here. I know you haven't been able to visit them, so I thought you'd like a chance to say goodbye."

"Thanks, Klinger. I really appreciate the way you're taking care of me."

The clerk liked the way she smiled at him. "I'm glad to do it. I have to go. Colonel Potter wants those reports leaving on the mail truck today."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"No. Thanks, though. I'd like to come over later, if that's all right?"

"Absolutely. You're always welcome at the MacAllister Ranch."

* * *

After the young woman waved to the men on the ambulance bus a final time, she returned to her tent. Selecting a report from the stack on her table, MacAllister sat in her chair and elevated her feet.

Captain Pierce sauntered by. He peered through the tent flap screen. "Sarabeth, may I come in?"

"Sure, Hawkeye. Come on in and have a seat." She indicated the other chair as he walked into her tent. "I was wondering if you were going to pay me a daytime visit. Or if you only came out at night."

"Some of my best work is done in the dark," he replied with a suggestive rise of his eyebrows.

"I don't doubt that." Sarabeth laughed. "Would you like some water to drink?" she offered.

"No, thanks. I only bathe in that." He grinned. "So, what are you reading?"

"Treatment records. I want to know what kind of cases y'all have had and how they were handled. Just to give me some idea of what to expect."

"In meatball surgery, expect the worse. You won't be too far wrong."

"Terrific." Sarabeth shook her head. "I hear you're good with a scalpel. But, how are you with a hammer?"

"Probably all thumbs---smashed ones at that. What do you need?"

* * *

Oct. 5th: 1130 hours

In the mess tent, a group of nurses were waiting anxiously for their mail. The company clerk was reading off the names. "Baker, Campbell, Hernandez, MacAllister, MacAllister, and another MacAllister, Smith, Tanakhamara..."

"Hey," Liza Campbell protested good-naturedly. "Why are you getting so much mail? You've only been here three days!"

"That's because my folks sent these---addressed for here---while I was still at the Army Nurse's Training Camp in California. They figured I'd be in Korea before these letters arrived."

"You're lucky to be getting them before you leave!" Kellye joked.

"Oh, Lieutenant MacAllister," Corporal Klinger announced, "you also have a desk in your tent. Rizzo and I brought it in---special delivery."

"Thanks, Klinger! I'll go look at it as soon as I finish eating dinner."

"If it doesn't finish you first," the corporal teased.

* * *

Passing the surgeon's tent, Sarabeth stopped to examine the camp signpost. Hand painted signs indicated the places MASH personnel called home. At the very top of the post, a board was labeled BOSTON. She studied that sign, smiled to herself and began hobbling to her quarters.

"Lieutenant. Wait a minute, please." Major Winchester called to her through the tent screen. He walked outside to talk to her. "I distinctly remember Captain Hunnicutt telling you to stay off your feet as much as possible. Surely, someone could have brought you some lunch...as unappealing as it may be."

"I slipped away before anyone had the chance, sir." She grinned. "Besides, Doctor Hunnicutt said I had to rest---he did not say I had to remain in complete isolation. I'm heading back to my quarters, right now." MacAllister looked at him. Her green eyes were sparkling with amusement. "I could use a cup of coffee, Major."

"Coincidentally, Lieutenant, so could I. Shall I bring you some?"

"Please."

* * *

Sarabeth was waiting for him at her tent entrance. "See my sign, Charles?" The woman showed him the board she had painted and nailed to her door.

Winchester read the words: _MacAllister Ranch, Korean Headquarters._

"What is this?" He pointed to the drawing beneath the words.

"That's our brand. The Rocking Double A." She traced the pattern with her fingers. "An 'A' for Austin---that's my daddy. An 'A' for Ada---that's my mama. Together, they form an 'M' for MacAllister. And the rocker rail is a '7' for the kids." She chuckled. "It meets with Klinger's approval. He says it looks like a camel's back."

"Are you still being dazzled by dromedaries, Sarabeth?"

"And I'm being befuddled by batrachians," she answered with a smile. "Come on in."

The major set the coffee cups on the table. He surveyed her quarters. "You have definitely made some improvements."

"Hawkeye was over this morning. He was driving nails, hanging shelves, things like that. He also taught me some colorful new phrases. And I thoughtmy brothers knew a lot of cuss words!" MacAllister added with a laugh.

"I take it he is not much of a carpenter."

"Well," she answered diplomatically, "I appreciated his efforts, anyway. And I did enjoy talking to him."

The man pulled a book from his pocket. "I brought a book of poetry...if you still want me to read to you."

"Sure! I was hoping you would," she replied, happy that he had remembered her request. "May we have some more of those good cookies, as well?"

"Of course."

She placed the tin on the table beside the coffee mugs. Once again, Winchester helped her to a chair before seating himself. Smiling her thanks, MacAllister rested her feet on the crate he provided. "What's your first selection?"

"I found another Masefield poem I thought you might enjoy," he said.

MacAllister quoted in response:

'_Then read from the treasured volume_

_The poems of your choice;_

_And lend to the rhyme of the poet_

_The beauty of thy voice._' (Henry Wadsworth Longfellow)

Amazed, Winchester asked, "How many verses can you recall from memory?"

"Lots of them," she replied. "I told you: I like poetry."

* * *

"You do have beauty in your voice, Charles. I like to listen to you---and that _Yankee_ accent." The woman smiled at him. "How about a small amount of that brandy, now? To ease your throat and to prepare mine. It's my turn to read to you."

"An excellent suggestion. You have beauty in your _Texas_ voice, as well."With a delicate reverence, Major Winchester poured some of the amber-colored liquid into her cup. He sighed. "Madetta Brandy---in a coffee mug---how discouraging."

"I could probably scrounge up some clean urine specimen bottles," Sarabeth offered helpfully.

"Given that option, I'd prefer the coffee cups," he responded dryly.


	15. 15

FIFTEEN

* * *

Oct. 6th: 0730 hours

Standing outside the doctors' tent, balancing on her crutches, Sarabeth MacAllister knocked on the door frame. "Come in," Hawkeye Pierce called out. Sitting on his cot, Pierce touched the brim of his Stetson hat as she stepped inside. "Howdy, Miz Sarabeth," he spoke with an exaggerated drawl.

"Howdy, Sheriff Hawkeye," she returned with a smile. The lieutenant surveyed his quarters. Her eyebrows rose in surprise. Two thirds of the tent were cluttered with personal belongings, dirty clothes and other unidentifiable objects. The other portion, in sharp contrast, was tidy, orderly and well kept.

"I can see why y'all call your tent the'_Swamp_'! It's a good thing my mama isn't here, she'd make y'all clean up this mess!"

From his side of the tent, Major Winchester, resting on his bed, said, "Let's send for the good woman. I certainly can not make them keep it clean."

"I'm sorry, Major. I didn't mean to wake you."

"You didn't, Lieutenant. It is the stench of unwashed socks that disturbs me."

"Go back to sleep, Charles." Hawkeye told him. "You need all the beauty rest you can get."

"Charming, as usual, Pierce. Step over here, Lieutenant, before you are overcome by their putrescent emanations!"

MacAllister was listening closely to their words. She was trying to understand the nuances and the undercurrents adrift in the room. She was, after all, going to have live and work with these people.

The major pushed back his covers. He sat on the edge of his cot, gathered his robe around his pajamas. He stood, tied the sash around his waist and moved a chair closer to her. "Please, sit down, Lieutenant."

"Thank you, sir. But I wasn't planning on staying. I was looking for Captain Hunnicutt."

"Why do you want him when you can have me?" Doctor Pierce asked.

"Because, Pierce, it is obvious that the lady has excellent taste," Winchester retorted.

"How do I know? I haven't tasted her, yet."

"Sorry, Hawkeye," Sarabeth informed him. "I'm not on the menu."

"Not even a bite?"

"Not even a nibble," she countered, not annoyed by his antics.

"So much for that fishing expedition. Can I pour you a glass of liver failure while you're waiting for that lucky surgeon?"

"It's too early in the morning for a drink. And, besides, don't you mean _sturgeon_?" she asked innocently as B J, fresh from the showers, walked in.

"Please, Lieutenant," the major sounded pained. "Don't encourage him. It only makes him worse!"

Ignoring him, Hawkeye beamed joyfully. "Ah, a woman after my own _carp_!"

Hunnicutt smiled at the young woman. He instantly joined their banter. "He sounds _fin_-cere, Sarabeth."

"_Reel_-ly? I thought he was just throwing me a _line_," she responded with a grin.

"I've got you _hooked_, now."

"That's de-_bait_-able, Hawkeye."

No. That is quite enough!" The major broke into their exchange. "All of you need to be scooped up in a very large net!"

Slinging his towel over his shoulder, he reached for his shaving kit.

"Lieutenant," Winchester nodded politely to her. "_Lox_." He nodded to the other doctors as he walked out of the tent.

Sarabeth watched him leave. She grinned at the other surgeons. "Y'all do drive him crazy, you know."

"We aim to please," Pierce said modestly.

"What do you need, Sarabeth?" B J asked as he threw his towel onto Winchester's bed.

"Would you examine my ankle again, sir? It's been three days and I'm sure the swelling has gone done enough for a cast."

"And you want to escape from the clutches of your crutches?" Hunnicutt quipped.

"I do, indeed."

"I'll be glad to. Meet you over in x-ray in a few minutes."

"Thank you, sir."

"OK. B J gets to examine your ankle. But I get to examine the rest of you," Hawkeye leered.

"Nope," MacAllister answered. She gathered the damp towel from the middle of Winchester's bed and tossed it to Pierce. "Gentlemen, in regards to this tent, I reckon I have to side with the major. _Sea _you in x-ray."

* * *

"There you are---one walking cast---in a cast of thousands," Doctor Hunnicutt said while washing the plaster from his arms and hands. "Jeanette, after this hardens, I want another x-ray."

"Yes, sir," replied Lieutenant Thompson, the nurse on duty.

"Thank you, sir," MacAllister commented. "It **_feels_** right. I won't have to worry about termites, anyway."

"Now, all you have to worry about is bubonic plague, botulism and boredom." Hawkeye Pierce gently placed MacAllister's foot onto the table and headed for the sink, as well.

"You really give me something to look forward to, you know that?" The woman smiled at the doctor.

Colonel Potter entered the treatment room. "Good morning, all. Lieutenant MacAllister, I see you're down to two legs, again."

"Yes, sir." She returned his grin and added, "Colonel, now that I can walk without stilts, may I have your permission to visit Sophie?"

"You don't want to ride her, do you?"

"No, sir! I just want to go out and talk to her. Or maybe brush her, sometimes. I miss being around horses."

"I understand. Feel free to visit the old girl any time you like."

"Thank you, sir."

Potter looked at the surgeons. "Hunnicutt, are you finished here?"

"Just waiting for the cast to harden---to get another x-ray, Colonel."

"Fine. I want to see the two of you, and Winchester, in my office in 30 minutes. Thompson, tell Major Houlihan, I want to see her in 45 minutes."

"Yes, Colonel."

Corporal Klinger walked into the room. Over his fatigues, he was wearing a bowling shirt. A Toledo Mudhen baseball cap was on his head. He was carrying a worn lunch pail in his hand. He spoke to the commanding officer. "Good morning, boss."

"Boss?" Potter questioned.

Klinger turned his attention to the younger doctors. "Hey, guys. That was some bowling last night, wasn't it? I've never seen so many strikes---outside a union hall. The two of you were really hot! I'm sure glad you joined our league."

"Let me guess," B J ventured, "We're in Toledo, Ohio. Right?"

"Of course we're in Ohio. What state do you think we're in?"

"In a perpetual state of confusion?" Hawkeye suggested.

Lieutenant MacAllister snickered. Klinger looked at her. "I know you. You're the lady who runs the donut shop on 15th street. What happened to your foot?"

"I dropped a _pound_ cake on it."

"And today's special is a _fruitcake_," Colonel Potter muttered. "Surgeon's meeting---30 minutes," he reiterated and returned to his office.

"He's a good foreman but sometimes I don't understand him," Klinger commented.

"That's all right," Pierce announced. "We don't understand you, either."

B J Hunnicutt said, "Klinger, tell Major Winchester that Colonel Potter wants to see him in 30 minutes."

"Winchester? Ah, yes. The doorman at the Westlander Hotel. Right away." The Lebanese factory worker looked at the woman who was struggling to keep her laughter to herself. "Wait here until I get back, lady. I'll walk you back to your shop. This is a rough neighborhood."

"You're telling me!" she answered with a laugh. "By the way, Mr. Klinger, this is just a suggestion but you may want to call the doorman major."

"He goes for titles, does he?"

"He does seem to think they're important."

"Thanks for the tip. Well, I must be off."

"Yes, you must be," Hawkeye agreed. After Klinger left, he noted, "I think I liked the camel better."

* * *

"Mr. Klinger, while the head honchos are at the plant meeting, do you reckon you could do me a favor? I'll throw in a couple of donuts." Sarabeth MacAllister asked the company clerk.

"Sure thing, ma'am."

"OK. Meet me at the corner of Swamp and Signpost. And bring a ladder."

"Oh---a second story job, eh?" He winked suggestively.

"Something like that." She smiled in agreement.

* * *

"This board is going on the very top of the post," MacAllister explained. She showed Klinger the sign she had prepared. TEXAS was painted in bold black letters. She had also painted a small Texas flag beside the name of her home state.

"So that's why you wanted all the colored paints."

"That's why. What do you think?"

"It's great! But the bigwigs over in the decorating department aren't going to like this."

"They'll get over it." She grinned in anticipation.

"Are you sure you don't want me to climb up there for you?" Klinger asked.

"Nope. My idea. My responsibility. You just hold the ladder steady and watch out for the sheriff."

MacAllister carefully nailed her sign above the one labeled BOSTON. Climbing down, she examined her handiwork in satisfaction.

"There! Let's see how observant our Massachusetts major is. Thanks for your help, Mr. Klinger."

"You're welcome. I've got to get back to the assembly line."

"Right. Gotta beat the time clock. Oh, and Mr. Klinger," she called to him as he walked away, "hide that ladder for a couple of days, will you?"

He smiled. "Gotcha!"

* * *

Oct. 6th: 1830 hours

"Wait a minute, Igor!" Sarabeth MacAllister protested as she pulled her tray away from the man who was serving food. "What's that orange stuff you're fixing to give me?"

"Those are our green beans."

"Green..." She shuddered. "None for me, thank you. I'm not that fond of ptomaine."

"Ah, Lieutenant," Major Winchester spoke from his place behind her in the serving line. "I see you're tempting your taste buds with our culinary cuisine."

"Tempting them to suicide, you mean," she countered and then smiled up at him. "So, Major, how are you doing this evening?"

"I am quite well, actually. I had an interesting chat with Max Klinger earlier."

"Oh? And what did you and the bowling champ of Toledo chat about?"

They moved down the line. Winchester politely waited until she was seated before sliding onto the bench opposite hers.

"Klinger, in one of his madder delusions, informed me that there isn't a ladder or a step stool to be found in this entire city."

MacAllister raised an eyebrow at him. "Fancy that."

"Yes, I thought that was an interesting piece of information."

"So do I." Sarabeth smiled in reply. Over the man's shoulder, she saw the head nurse approaching. "Howdy, Major Houlihan. Would you care to join us?" she asked.

"Yes, Margaret. Please do." Winchester stood, as a courtesy to her.

Lieutenant MacAllister made room for the head nurse on her bench. Major Houlihan chose to sit next to the doctor---across from her. With a frown, the woman stared down at her plate for a few seconds. Then, deciding to ignore the slight, she smiled at both of them.

"Major Winchester, I understand that you have a camera. May I borrow it for a couple of days? I'll pay for the film. I'd like to take some pictures to send home---to Texas."

"Certainly, Lieutenant. Are you going to take pictures of the people here or of our local attractions?"

"Both. I thought I'd take some pictures of all of y'all, some of the mess tent, the ranch house, the OR, the signpost..."

"Yes, you simply must have a photograph of that signpost," he remarked with a smile. "It may not remain like that much longer."

Major Houlihan was watching them in confusion. "You won't have too much time to be taking pictures, MacAllister. You go on active duty in the morning. See me at 0700 hours tomorrow."

"Yes, ma'am. I'm looking forward to working with you, Major," came the polite response. The red-haired nurse glanced at Major Winchester. Her smile returned. "No ladders to be found anywhere, sir?"

"None whatsoever."


	16. 16

SIXTEEN

_

* * *

AN: To Jas-theMADDTexan: just wait & see. : )_

* * *

Oct. 6th: 2000 hours

Sitting at his desk, the commanding officer of the 4077th reread the last portion of his letter:

_I'm sorry to hear about the flat tire, Mildred dear. But it's good to know that Seth Wilkins fixed it for you so quickly. I wish some of the problems over here could be resolved as readily. _

_You know that Margaret works harder than any of her nurses. So, when I requisitioned a second-in-command charge nurse to help with some of the more mundane reports and duties, I thought she would be pleased. Instead, I'm afraid I've hurt her feelings and her professional pride. _

_Apparently thinking that I intend to replace her, she has resisted this idea every step of the way. The new charge nurse's arrival didn't help matters, either. Lieutenant MacAllister came in with an Australian outfit that was ambushed. Although injured, she took care of those men until they were brought here. _

_Because of that injury, (a severely twisted ankle---that was originally broken years ago) Margaret now has a legitimate reason to have her transferred. My doctors, on the other hand, are very opposed to that reassignment. They want her on staff here. I have to agree with them. Her credentials are impressive; her work with the Aussies was superb; and we need more good surgical nurses. Margaret has reluctantly agreed to keep her here for the time being. _

_MacAllister does have a temper, I can see that. However, she has a ready smile and an abundance of good humor to counterbalance that flaw. And, she has made an effort to be friendly with everyone in camp. Not just the officers: everyone. _

_Other than Margaret, and probably Lieutenant Parnelli, I don't think there's anyone here who doesn't like this tall Texas girl. She has even managed to make snooty Winchester crack a smile. _

_But, even better, as far as I'm concerned, MacAllister likes and understands horses. She was raised on a ranch---grew up with cattle and horses. It's good to talk to someone who knows the noble ones. Her stories remind me of my younger days in Missouri. And, she also, somehow, reminds me of you. And I realize how much I miss you. So very much._

_Keep the home fires burning, Mildred. I love you._

_Sherm _

* * *

Oct. 6th: 2000 hours

Sitting at her desk, the head nurse of the 4077th reread the last portion of her letter:

_I'll be attending a conference in Tokyo in a couple of weeks, Belinda. I would love to have you join us for a night out on the town. I'm sure that Donald won't mind. That is, I hope I'll be there...if my nurses settle back down by then. _

_Even though, as head nurse, I have always fulfilled, and will continue to fulfill, all of my obligations, Colonel Potter insisted that I needed someone to help with the paperwork. Ever since the position was announced, Lieutenant Parnelli has wanted that assignment. How she ever thought she was qualified for it, I'll never know. (I don't know how she ever made it into the Army---or even through nursing school---for that matter.) _

_I'm not sure that the person who has been assigned will be any better. She is very un-military. Very undisciplined! Very exasperating!_

_Before coming to Korea, Lieutenant MacAllister was a civilian---with no military training other than what little was taught at the Army Nurses Training Camp. As soon as she arrived, instead of waiting for proper escort, she hitched a ride with some Australian soldiers. They were attacked along the way. She took care of those men but she did more field treatment than she should have---making decisions which only surgeons should make. _

_In addition, she wrenched her ankle...already damaged from an old break. (I'm willing to bet she didn't tell the Nursing Board about that impairment, either.) Because of this injury, I tried to have her transferred. Her ankle is weak. And we don't know how long it will take to heal. We need people we can rely on---now. Not some unknown time in the future. _

_However, all of the surgeons want her to stay. So, for now, whenever we have wounded, she will be assigned to an OR team. She will also have rotating clean up and post-op duties. At other times, she will be working double shifts (1100 to 1700 and 2300 to 0500 hours). These extra shifts are to prepare her for the second-in-command position...if she lasts that long. _

_MacAllister has already had one go-round with Parnelli. Her hair is barely within regulation length. She also talks too much. And, practically every male in this camp...from the enlisted men, to Corporal Klinger, to Major Winchester, down to Ernie, our camp canine...thinks she's the best thing since sliced bread. Hawkeye Pierce does, too. It's all so irritating! _

_I'll write more, later. Call whenever you get a chance. _

_Margaret_


	17. 17

SEVENTEEN

* * *

Oct. 7th: 0530 hours

"Whoa, Sophie. Easy now." Sarabeth MacAllister spoke softly to Colonel Potter's mare. She tightened the lead rope and tried again to lift the horse's foot. "Come on, girl," she pleaded. "I only have a little bit of time to get this done."With a forceful kick, the mare pulled her leg out of the woman's grasp. The edge of her hoof scraped Sarabeth's hand and drew blood. The Texan sighed as she looked at her hand. "Why should I expect cooperation from you? Nothing else is going right this morning," she grumbled.

"Perhaps you should speak to her in Korean," Major Winchester's unexpected voice made the woman jump. "She is, after all, a Korean horse," he informed her as he opened the gate and walked into the corral. "Sarabeth, you appear to be having some difficulty. Do you require any assistance?"

The young woman pushed a strand of hair away from her face and leaned across the withers of the horse. "And Hawkeye says you don't have a sense of humor!"

"Compared to the tasteless vulgarity he displays, I do not," the major replied. He caught her arm to examine her injury. Satisfied with the superficial nature of the scrape, he released her hand. "However, I am serious about the offer. Would you like some help?"

"Charles," Sarabeth asked skeptically, "do you know anything at all about horses?"

"I have been around them a time or two," was his sardonic reply.

Winchester patted the horse and murmured, "Steady, girl." Expertly, he pulled at the horse's ankle and secured her foot against his knee. "Is this at the right angle for you?"

"Perfect," MacAllister answered.

The woman reached for the clippers. She was struggling with each cut. "Lordy! This hoof is so thick, I can barely trim it. Sorry I'm taking so long, Charles."

"Just don't take all day, my dear," the man advised. He was straining to hold the nervous animal. He maintained his steadfast grip, however.

"I don't have all day," Sarabeth retorted. She thumped the mare in the ribs and scolded her, "Behave yourself."

Sophie tried a different tactic. She leaned against the man. He had to shift his position as a counter balance. He held the leg in place until Sarabeth said, "OK. I'm ready to file this one."

Relieved, Winchester dropped the leg and slowly straightened, holding his back.

MacAllister looked at him in concern. "Are you all right?"

"Yes. I'm not used to being a _foot-_stool, however." He grinned at her before capturing the horse's leg again for the woman to file the front and sides of the hoof.

Sarabeth laughed as she worked. "A pun: an actual pun! You must be sick."

"Hearing that Texas accent of yours is definitely affecting me."

"It can only be an improvement," she informed him primly. "There: one down and three to go."

As he straightened a second time, Sarabeth smiled at him. "Charles, you are a man of many talents. And I apologize for ever doubting you."

He returned her smile. "O, ye of little faith."

"OK. 'Fess up," she told him as they moved to the animal's hindquarters to work on the back hoof. "You spent your formative years traveling with a band of gypsies who taught you everything you know about horses."

"Actually, I spent my formative years playing polo---in Boston."

"How long have you been playing polo?" Sarabeth asked.

"Ever since I was a young lad---around eight years old or so. I played all through my school years. I lettered in polo, and crew, at Harvard."

The woman laughed. "That's a good joke on me. I really didn't think you knew which end of the horse to stay away from."

"Father insisted that---if I was going to play polo---I would have to learn how to look after my mounts."

"My daddy said the same thing: except, he was talking about me rounding up cattle." She handed him the clippers and the rasp. "It's my turn to hold her foot."

"This is rather difficult," Winchester admitted as he attempted to clip the excess growth.

Both of them were sweating by the time they had finished with all four feet of the skittish mare. The woman poured some oats in the feed bin. She patted the horse's neck before removing the halter. "There we go, girl."

MacAllister put away the equipment and hung the tack on its nail. Moving away from the animal, she wiped her forehead and turned to the man. "Thank you, Charles, for your help. There's no way I could have done that by myself. Texas horses have much better manners."

"So do Massachusetts ones. However, I'm glad I could assist you."

After securely fastening the gate and leaving the corral, the two of them moved towards the main section of the compound.

The lieutenant checked her watch and shook her head. "If I'm going to get a shower, I'd better get a move on." She increased her pace. "I do not want to be late---today---of all days!"

The major lengthened his stride, as well. "I would definitely advise against tardiness."

* * *

Oct. 7th: 1730 hours

Limping, coming out of the hospital building, with her hands in her lab coat pockets, Lieutenant MacAllister looked tired. She stopped to examine the signpost. A grin spread across her face as she noticed the order of the two highest boards.

BOSTON was once again at the top of the post. TEXAS was immediately underneath it. She walked over to the post and studied the ground.

B J Hunnicutt approached. "Looking for something?" he asked in amusement.

"Found it." She smiled at him. "Jeep tire tracks. I wondered how he was going to manage it. I reckon the major won this round."

"Planning on evening up the score?"

"I sure am. This is going to be fun."

"Want some help? Hawk and I are known for our one-up-manship."

Sarabeth chuckled. "Not yet. I'll keep y'all in reserve." She looked at the signpost again. "I do enjoy a challenge."

The officer smiled and then asked, "How's the ankle?"

"I've stood on it too long," the lieutenant admitted. "But, after I get something to eat, I'm going to lie down and rest. It's fine."

"I'll be over later to check on you."

* * *

Oct. 7th: 1830 hours

"So, all you want us to do is keep Charles occupied over at Rosie's bar for a few hours tonight?"

"Right. Around 2200 hours, my accomplice and I will take care of the exchange. I just don't want him to hear what's going on. Can y'all do that, without him getting suspicious?"

"Charles is suspicious of everything we do." B J grinned at the red-haired woman.

"And with good reason," she retorted.

Hunnicutt winked. "We'll take care of him."

"Thanks, B J. And thanks for posing for me. When I get the pictures developed, I'll give you one to send to Peg. Does she even know about that mustache?"

"She knows about it. She's never seen it, however."

"I hope she likes furry caterpillars." MacAllister laughed.

"Why don't you come with us to Rosie's?" he urged. "Your nameless accomplice could make the switch. And you'd have the perfect alibi. It would drive Charles crazy trying to figure out how you changed the signs while you were sitting next to him."

"That's a tempting offer. But I'm going to take a nap in a few minutes. This schedule is going to play havoc with my sleep patterns for awhile."

"All right, fellow conspirator," Hunnicutt agreed, "one diversion coming up."

"Great! Now, all I have to worry about is falling off the ladder and breaking my other ankle."


	18. 18

EIGHTEEN

* * *

Oct. 9th: 0430 hours

_Dear Aunt Juneanna,_

_I was thinking about you last night. So, before I have to go on duty, I thought I'd write to you._

_Yesterday morning started out really bad. I was in the mess tent. I didn't have much on my tray because the food is so awful and I wasn't feeling very good anyway. Monica Parnelli---my least favorite person in the whole world---came over and started making snide remarks like 'Was I dieting?' and 'It's about time I started losing some weight'. And some of the enlisted men snickered. I've always been self conscious about my size and she always says things like that---especially when she has an audience. _

_Sarabeth had walked into to the tent in time to hear her last comment. She came over to our table and said, "That's enough, Monica." But Parnelli wouldn't stop. So then Sarabeth said, "Parnelli, we can handle this two ways. One: you can refrain from making hurtful comments. Or, two: you can continue and I will file an official misconduct report. Which is it going to be?"_

_Before Parnelli could reply, Klinger came running up the tent, saying "Lieutenant MacAllister! Lieutenant Cochlan's calling. But you better hurry! I can only hold the line open for a few minutes!" _

_Sarabeth said she'd be right there and looked at Parnelli sternly. "I mean it, Parnelli." and left with Klinger._

_Monica mimicked her, "I mean it, Parnelli." She added, "Like Houlihan's going to listen to her." She did leave me alone after that, though._

_The word must have gotten around to Major Houlihan because I heard, later, that she called Sarabeth into her tent. No one knows what they talked about. I hope Sarabeth didn't get into any more trouble. _

_Yesterday evening, Klinger and I went over to her tent. She had asked us earlier to come over and play cards. She didn't look as happy as she usually does but I didn't have the nerve to ask her about it._

_Major Winchester also came over. I guess he thought we were going to play bridge but _

_Sarabeth taught us this card game she calls Stomp. It's a fast game---you're drawing cards and passing one to the person beside you, trying to keep track of your ever changing points and trying to rid of the penalty cards---all at the same time! It's really hard. But it's lots of fun!_

_Soon, Klinger, Sarabeth and I were laughing so hard, our sides were hurting. Even the major was smiling and enjoying himself. He should have been; he was winning most of the hands. I doubt that he would admit to having fun, however. He likes to appear so dignified and act like ordinary things are beneath him._

_Anyway, one time, while we were waiting for Klinger to finish shuffling the cards, inventions were mentioned. Sarabeth and I finally convinced Klinger to tell us about his latest idea. Major Winchester denounced it as being a silly scam. But Sarabeth said she was interested in it._

_So, after dark, and after Klinger had sworn us all to secrecy, we went behind the generator shed to look at it. It's a child's toy that you swirl around your waist...kinda like the way the hula dancers move their hips. Sarabeth could make it work. So could I. Klinger could too, after a fashion. The major wouldn't even try it. Too undignified, I guess._

_Afterwards, we were all hungry. So we decided to head for the mess tent. But the odor coming from it convinced us to combine our resources and create our own meal. We split up and met back at Sarabeth's tent, bringing whatever we could find._

_We had a strange combination of food! Sarabeth had a canned ham and some bread and coffee from the kitchen. Klinger brought a Lebanese salami and some cheese. I brought my last batch of homemade macadamia nut cookies. Major Winchester had caviar and crackers._

_No one had a knife to cut the meat. So Sarabeth got a scalpel from her med kit. Taking it out of its wrappings, she handed it to Major Winchester. She told him that this wasn't his usual table but she reckoned he could handle it, anyway. She likes to tease him._

_As we ate, (I tried the caviar but I didn't like it) we talked. We talked about so many things: snow falls, Comanche raids, playing in the water from a fire hydrant, polo matches, volcanoes...all kinds of topics._

_At one point, we got around to folk stories and myths. Sarabeth told us the legends of the bluebonnets and of the Indian paint brushes. And I told them about Pele's Children and the Lava Bird's Tears. That's what made me think of you._

_I remember how we would gather round your table---Mom, Grandma, Old Uncle Timache, Timmy, all the cousins. And how we'd laugh and listen to the old stories. I didn't realize how much I missed that time in my life---until last night._

_And, in all of the things we talked about, not once did we mention the war and the wounded (or Parnelli). No one said we couldn't---but it was like we had all agreed---that we would keep ugly reality outside the tent---as long as possible._

_I enjoyed listening and talking to them. I consider Sarabeth one of my friends. Klinger's always been nice. And Major Winchester has always paid me polite attention. Unlike Hawkeye, who never seems to notice me at all. I got to know them a little better. And it was nice to be able to spend an evening away from this horrible place._

_So, at 2030 hours, (8:30pm---real world time) when Sarabeth apologized and said that she was going to have to ask us all to leave so she could get some sleep, I felt sad. I didn't want to leave---we were having such a good time!_

_I also felt bad because I had forgotten that she is working a double shift. The rest of the nurses have only one six-hour shift a day---when we don't have patients. And since my duty doesn't start until 0500 hours, (5am) I have plenty of time to get some rest. But Sarabeth has to go on at 2300 hours (11pm)._

_We left---reluctantly. Sarabeth really didn't want us to go, either. But she was right. She had to get some sleep. She should have run us out sooner._

_I heard her tell Klinger that she would stop by his office in the morning to discuss investing in his toy. _

_Major Winchester walked me to my tent. He is such a gentleman! It wouldn't hurt the other men in this camp to adopt some of his manners. He asked me if I thought that invention of Klinger's would really sell. I told him I thought it might. He said he might have to reconsider Klinger's offer._

_At my tent, we said good night and he left. Once I was inside, Liza and Jeanette tried to kid me about having a date with Major Standoffish. I just ignored them. Sometimes, I get so tired of having to put up with them._

_A couple of days ago, Sarabeth asked me if I would like to move in with her. It would be nice to share a tent with only one person---rather than with three other people. She's waiting for Major Houlihan's approval on the change. I bet she won't get it. The major doesn't seem to like her. But I do._

_Anyway, it's nearly time for me to begin my shift._

_I really miss you. Please write soon._

_Love, _

_Kellye _


	19. 19

NINETEEN

* * *

Oct. 10th: 0830 hours

"OK, Charles, you're in first place. I'm in second. B J is in third and Hawkeye's last," Sarabeth announced. "It's your deal, B J. And, gentlemen, after this hand, I quit. I have to get some shut eye."

"How much sleep are you getting a night?" Captain Hunnicutt asked as he shuffled the cards. "Three hours?"

"Oh, lots more than that. Four, sometimes even five..." Unexpectedly, MacAllister stopped, tilted her head and listened carefully. "I hear helicopters," she explained.

The PA system was activated: "_Attention, all personnel. Choppers and ambulances are on their way. All shifts report to your stations. Our vacation's over, folks_."

"So much for our lull," Hawkeye groaned. "Time to see if you can swim, Sarabeth," he told the woman as they filed out of the Swamp.

"I just hope I'll be able to dog paddle," she admitted.

* * *

Doctors Pierce and Hunnicutt headed for the helicopter landing site on the nearby hill. Still on light duty, Lieutenant MacAllister was confined to compound triage. She grabbed a clipboard and followed Major Winchester. She wrote his instructions for each soldier as he made his assessments.

She stumbled once, her cast catching on the edge of a litter. Father Mulcahy caught her arm as she fought to regain her balance. He hurried away before she even had the chance to thank him.

* * *

Captain Pierce hopped down from the arriving jeep. He checked his patient again. "Sarabeth!" he called. She hobbled-raced over to him. "This kid has got to go now! The other nurses will have to do this. Get my table ready. I'm going to scrub." He turned to the nurse still in the jeep. "Prep him and get him to the OR, stat!"

"Yes, Doctor," both women answered.

Lieutenant MacAllister handed her clipboard to the other nurse. She ignored the awkwardness of her cast as she sprinted for the nurse's changing room.

* * *

As the surgical nurse assigned to Pierce's team, MacAllister was responsible for everything at her table. She checked the equipment and the supplies. Everything was in position and was in working order. Lieutenant Campbell was the anesthetist for this session. She examined the equipment a final time before settling down the head of the table to wait for the patient.

"Ready, Liza?" MacAllister asked.

"Ready, Sarabeth. Good luck working with Hawkeye."

Captain Pierce burst through the doors. "He's not here, yet?" he demanded.

"Not yet, sir," the surgical nurse replied.

"MacAllister," Major Houlihan warned while she tied the surgeon's gown and held his gloves for him to slip on. For this OR session, she was the rover---the circulating nurse who kept the surgical trays filled, who helped the surgeons with gloves or gowns and who was available to assist at any table. "I'll be keeping my eye on you."

"Yes, Major. Thank you," the lieutenant remarked.

The corpsmen set the litter down at Pierce's table. His surgical nurse attended to the necessities before announcing, "Your patient's ready, sir."

* * *

The first few minutes of MacAllister's initiation into battlefield surgery were chaotic and clumsy. Not used to working together, she and Pierce hampered each other's movement and fumbled with the instrument hand-offs. Concerned for his patient, Captain Pierce proclaimed harshly, "Not that one, damn it! Give me the other one first!"

"Sorry, sir," was the woman's contrite reply.

"Doctor," Margaret Houlihan came scurrying over to him, "do you want this nurse replaced?"

"_Replaced_!" The newest operating room nurse was indignant. She looked at her surgeon in appeal.

Pierce saw the woman's anxious green eyes above her surgical mask. He forced himself breathe deeply and relax. After all, he was the one who had insisted on giving her a chance. "Replace, her? No. I haven't even used her up, yet."

He could see the relief in the Texan's eyes. "Thank you," she whispered.

"Let's try again, shall we?"

As they resumed their operation, the nurse watched the surgeon with an even fiercer concentration than she had before. Hand-offs became easier. Once the two of them adjusted to each other's styles, they began working together, quickly and effectively.

"Much better!" MacAllister noted. "I believe we're finally ready to two-step together, Doctor."

"Then let's promenade through this kid's ribcage."

* * *

"Close that," the dark-haired surgeon directed. He stepped away from his operating table. "Margaret, in post-op, keep a sharp eye on his drainage. He's got more tubes in him than our still."

"Do you want to check this, Doctor?" MacAllister asked as she finished her sutures.

"No. I prefer plaid," Hawkeye said. He leaned over her shoulder to examine her work.

"Good job. Next." He called for another patient.

As their first case was being carried to the recovery room, Sarabeth started to peel off her gloves. Lieutenant Baker, standing beside her, assisting at Doctor Hunnicutt's table, whispered to her, "Don't!"

Her warning came too late. Major Houlihan had noticed her actions. She walked over to where they were standing. "Lieutenant, we don't have enough gloves for the nurses to have fresh ones anytime they want a pair. That prerogative belongs to the surgeons."

"My mistake, Major," the Texan replied levelly before continuing to remove the gloves. "These are already contaminated. Gloves," she called and tossed the old ones in the hamper.

Houlihan helped her into a pair. "See me after surgery."

The nurses at each table exchanged glances. They all knew, and dreaded, that tone of voice.

"Yes, ma'am," the newest surgical nurse replied.

* * *

Oct. 10th: 1130 hours

The soldier now on the table required a bowel resection. Lieutenant MacAllister watched Captain Pierce at work. Her training, although extensive, had not prepared her for the surgical innovations required at the front lines.

"Doctor, why..?" she hastily cut off her inquiry. Surgeons were not to be questioned. "Sorry, sir."

"Why am I doing a resection this way?" he finished her question.

"Yes, sir."

"This is meatball surgery. When they're stacked up like this, we don't have time for a regular resection," Hawkeye explained while he operated. "Give me some more suction here." His nurse quickly acknowledged his instructions and applied the suction hose to the area he indicated. "There you go. So we use this short cut. It takes 20 minutes instead of an hour."

"Lieutenant," Houlihan appeared at MacAllister's side, "you are there only to assist the surgeon. You are not there to ask him questions."

"Understood, ma'am," the nurse replied.

"Besides, you haven't seen my lecture bill, yet," Pierce added. He could not see her smile behind her mask but he could see it in her eyes.

MacAllister returned her attention to the surgery. "Cut the mesentery between clamps, layer with catgut and silk for the serosa. Got it. I'll know what you want next time, sir."

"Good. Now, if you have any other questions---like what the two of us are doing after surgery---feel free to ask," the surgeon offered.

There was silence from his nurse.

"You don't want to know what we are doing after we get out of here?"

The lieutenant answered, "I already know the answer to that, sir. Nothing."

"MacAllister, stop distracting your doctor," Major Houlihan ordered.

"She's not...3-0 silk...distracting me, Margaret," Hawkeye informed the head nurse. "I may be abstracted...contracted...detracted...even retracted...but I'm not distracted. Now, what was I doing?"

"I believe you were planting potatoes," MacAllister answered with her soft Texas drawl.

"Hawkeye, if you find any worms in that garden, don't tell the cook," B J Hunnicutt joined in. "Can you imagine what he would fix?"

"Earthworm Alfredo..."

"Spaghetti with worm sauce..."

The two doctors started another of their famous exchanges---each trying to top the other's contribution.

"A veritable selection of invertebrate indigestion," Winchester murmured.

* * *

As the hours dragged on and the wounded kept coming into the OR, the tensions increased. So did the rapid fire chatter between the surgeons. Also, during those long hours, it became apparent to everyone in the operating room that Major Houlihan was finding fault with her new nurse. She spent most of her time standing near MacAllister, giving comments and criticisms about her work.

There was no anger evident in the lieutenant's polite responses. However, Pierce could see it flashing often in her eyes.

Once, after the head nurse's fourth request for a lap sponge count within 30 minutes, Captain Hunnicutt whispered softly to the nurse standing at his back, "Sarabeth, now I understand your collar and dog reference."

Hawkeye, hearing only the last part, asked, "Does this mean you're going to meet me in my _pup_ tent?"

"No, sir. It means you're _barking _up the wrong tree," the red-haired woman replied.

"MacAllister," the head nurse called to her, "remain quiet when you have a patient on the table."

The nurse in question gritted her teeth and shut her eyes in exasperation before responding softly, "Yes, ma'am."

* * *

Captain Pierce and Hunnicutt finished one of their operations at the same time. Both teams stretched and relaxed while waiting for more injured men to be brought in. B J turned to look at Sarabeth. Earlier, she had propped her knee on a stool. She was now standing, with her head drooping, her cast barely touching the floor. "Are you doing all right?" he asked.

"It hurts like hell, sir," she said. "But I'm holding out all right."

"Take an analgesic after we finish in here," Hunnicutt directed.

"Yes, sir," MacAllister closed her eyes and rested her knee on the stool again. "Doctor Hunnicutt," a touch of humor had returned to her voice, "speaking of dogs, what's the breed that has long, floppy ears and short, stubby legs?"

"Um, a beagle," he guessed.

"Or a bagel," Hawkeye contributed.

MacAllister shook her head, "No, the other dog."

"A basset hound?" Father Mulcahy suggested.

"Yes, that's it. We had a basset hound, once. We named him Wadsworth."

"Wadsworth?" Major Winchester questioned from across the room. "Why Wadsworth?"

"Because he was a _long fellow,_" MacAllister replied.

Almost everyone in the operating room laughed or groaned at her joke.

The major shook his head. "Of course, I should have known not to ask."

Medics entered from the pre-op area, carrying more soldiers.

Hawkeye signed in resignation. "I guess we're back in the _dog house_."


	20. 20

TWENTY

* * *

Oct. 11th: 0100 hours

"Doctor Pierce, are you ready for me to..._WHOA_!" Lieutenant MacAllister had walked over to the surgeon's changing room. She retreated quickly as she realized that the curtains were open and the men were in various stages of undress. Red faced, Sarabeth studied the patterns in the ceiling.

"_Excuse me_! It's SOP at my hospitals for the attending nurse to help remove gowns and top scrubs. Obviously, y'all can handle that, yourselves. I apologize, gentlemen."

"Why don't you come over to the Swamp in a few minutes?" Hawkeye asked.

Still staring at the ceiling, Sarabeth shook her head. "You never give up, do you, sir?"

"Actually, this is a legitimate request," he persisted. "Why don't you and Colonel Potter join us for a drink? We're ready to uncork a new batch from the still."

"Some other time," Potter commented. "Right now, I have an appointment with my pillow."

"MacAllister," Major Houlihan walked towards the nurse's changing room. She called over her shoulder, "I want to talk to you."

"Coming, Major. Captain Pierce, I would love a drink. I'll be over later." The lieutenant glanced at the head nurse and exhaled slowly. "Now, if y'all will excuse me. I have my own appointment to keep."

* * *

The Chief Surgeon turned to his commanding officer. "So she asked a question and expected new gloves. She's an excellent nurse! The finest kind! Margaret was on her back the entire time. She didn't deserve that then and she doesn't deserve it now."

"Simmer down, Pierce. I agree with you," Potter informed him. "But they have to work this out themselves. They're both used to being in charge. And they're both head-strong. We just have to leave them alone. And hope that they can settle this quickly."

* * *

"...And, then, you gave permission for Campbell to be away from her station!" The major was going down her list of mistakes that she felt MacAllister had made.

The surgeons, still in their changing room, were listening to this tirade with interest. Other OR personnel were eavesdropping, as well.

The lieutenant answered her accusations calmly. "Major, what harm is there in letting her stretch her legs for few minutes? Doctor Pierce and I were assisting Doctor Hunnicutt. She didn't have a patient on the table. And she needed a break. The surgeons aren't the only ones who get tired, you know."

"That is not part of your job."

"It is a part of my job! As surgical nurse, it is my responsibility to keep everything moving smoothly---including personnel. I take care of my patient first, my doctor second and then the rest of my team. If I see that one member of my team needs to rest, and, if I can spare him---or her, I will do so!"

MacAllister's drawl was becoming more pronounced. "I have found that the longer you run a team without a break, the more mistakes that can occur. Even a minute or two of rest can make a difference."

"Let me remind you, Lieutenant, that you are no longer running your surgical teams. You are under my command, now! And you will follow my directives!" Houlihan informed her with considerable heat in her words.

"If I am listed as a surgical nurse on the surgery schedule, I will do a surgical nurse's job," MacAllister replied with a hint of defiance in her voice.

"The only reason you were assigned surgical nurse status was because the Chief Surgeon insisted on it! But don't expect your friendships with any of the doctors to help you!"

Until this point, the lieutenant had remained calm and courteous. Now incensed, her anger boiling over, the Texan stated, "Major, I have never asked any doctor for any special considerations! I am good...I am **damn** good...at what I do! And that is why I'm assigned as the surgical nurse on a team! Not because I've asked some surgeon for a favor!"

"You are just a trouble maker."

"And you, ma'am, are a..."

"Here it comes," Potter spoke to the men with regret.

The doctors couldn't see Lieutenant MacAllister as she struggled to regain control of her temper, swallow her comment, force a smile on her face and relax her stance. But they could hear the return of quiet, formal civility in her words.

"You are a shining example to us all. And, if you will excuse me, Major. I'm scheduled for OR clean up." MacAllister limped away.

* * *

"I'd say Sarabeth was the winner of that one," Hawkeye commented as the surgeons left the area.

"Perhaps. But I don't think we've seen the end of that conflict," Colonel Potter observed. "When you have high-spirited fillies like those two in the same pasture, you are going to have problems."


	21. 21

TWENTY ONE

* * *

_AN: My thanks go out to Jenos and Major Disaster for their kind reviews. Y'all are the greatest:)_

* * *

Oct. 11th: 0330 hours

With a tired exhalation, the red-haired nurse knocked at the door of the surgeons's tent. "Anyone still conscious in there?" she called to the men inside.

"More or less. Come in," Captain Pierce replied.

The three doctors were collapsed on their cots. Major Winchester started to stand when MacAllister entered. "No need, sir." She shook her head and he sank back onto his bed.

Drawing a glass of clear liquid from the still, Hawkeye handed it to her. "Well, you survived your first OR session."

"More or less," she answered. MacAllister placed her hand on Winchester's desk chair. "May I?" He nodded his permission.

The woman swung the chair around to face them, pulled up a stool for her feet and slumped in the seat. She closed her eyes. "I am so tired! I haven't had to stand at a table that long in quite a while!"

Sarabeth took a sip of her drink and shuddered. "Oh, this stuff is awful!" She drank it anyway. "3:30 in the morning and I'm drinking embalming fluid. So this is how we have fun in Korea."

"This is as good as it gets," Pierce agreed.

"Are most of the OR sessions like that one?"

B J answered her, "Sometimes they're worse."

"Terrific." MacAllister set her drink on a table and massaged her temples with her fingers tips.

"Rough day at the office?" Hunnicutt sympathized.

"Yes. And you don't know the half of it."

"Care to talk about it?"

"Nope." She gave the man a fatigued smile. "But thanks for the offer, B J."

Sarabeth reached for her glass and stared into its contents. "Hawkeye, will you give me an honest answer if I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Pierce? Sincere about anything? That will be a first," Winchester snorted.

"Were you satisfied with my performance in the operating room?" she asked.

"Sarabeth, I think you are a very good surgical nurse. Once we coordinated our movements, I honestly couldn't have asked for a better one."

"Would you want me on your surgical team again?"

"Every single time I'm in the OR," Captain Pierce assured her.

She nodded. "OK. So long as I can keep my doctor happy, I won't let anything else bother me."

"I know other ways to keep your doctor happy." He leered at her.

The woman laughed. "Hawkeye!" she protested in exasperation.

"Sorry. I can only remain serious for short periods of time."

* * *

"...Three years ago," MacAllister whispered softly, "we received an emergency call at the hospital. A school bus, loaded with first and second graders on a field trip, had been hit broadside by a train."

"Oh, no!" the men exhaled sharply.

Sarabeth nodded sadly. "It was like some horrible jigsaw puzzle---matching severed arms...and legs...and heads...to all those little bodies. And we lost every single one of them: most at the scene; some at the hospital. It just devastated our community."

"I knew all of those kids. Their parents and I grew up together. Two of them were my nephews. One was my niece." Tears were forming in the woman's eyes. "At the time, I thought it was the worst possible thing that could ever happen. Now, I realize that it was just a warm-up...for this war...and for all the wars to follow."

"I hate this place!" she announced as she angrily wiped away her tears. "And I _hate_ the people who start these wars!"

"Sarabeth," Hawkeye Pierce gently spoke to her, "you are not alone in that sentiment."

"No," Hunnicutt and Winchester agreed.

"I didn't think I was. If it didn't bother us, we wouldn't be sitting here, before the roosters are even awake, destroying our livers."

The major quoted: '_Man's Inhumanity to Man,_

_Makes countless thousands mourn._' (Robert Burns) He gave her a weary smile.

She returned it with one of her own and then sighed and stretched. "Oh, well. Fun and games in Korea."

MacAllister finished her drink and set the glass aside. With her eyes closed, she rubbed her temples again. Then, using her fingers as a comb, she loosened the braids of her hair. Long after the tangles were gone, she continued moving her fingers through her red tresses---over and over and over again---concentrating on sad memories.

Suddenly aware that the men were staring at her, the woman opened her eyes. "What?" she demanded. "Have I broken another unwritten rule?"

"No," Hawkeye answered. "You have just given us back some of our sanity."

"I don't understand."

"That's OK. I don't either," Captain Pierce explained. "I just find your hair fascinating."

A small laugh escaped her. "You and everyone else in Korea. I can't walk across the compound without being gawked at! All the Korean kids look at me like I'm about to turn into a dragon or something."

With stiff movements, the woman stood. She returned the furniture to their original positions and placed her glass by the still. "Right now, since I have post-op duty in about three hours, I reckon I'll just turn into bed. Thank y'all for the antifreeze. And for the company. I definitely needed that."

"Do you want anyone to escort you to your tent?" Winchester offered.

"No, sir. I'll be all right. Thanks again." She paused by the door. "Y'all need to get some sleep. We're getting another batch of wounded in eight hours or so."

* * *

Hunnicutt wondered out loud, "Did anyone hear Colonel Potter say anything about more wounded coming in?"

"No." Winchester shook his head in resignation. "However, I have a feeling she's right."

"So do I," Pierce grimly agreed.


	22. 22

TWENTY TWO

* * *

Oct. 11th: 1230 hours

"_Ambulances rolling into the compound, folks. Here we go again_!"

* * *

Assigned to Doctor Winchester's team for this OR session, Lieutenant MacAllister had his table, and his patient, prepared when he entered the operating room. While being helped into his gloves, he glanced at the soldier's wounds and called for the x-rays. A corpsman posted the radiograms for him to examine.

"Leave up the first one," Winchester directed. "I'll remove the abdominal shrapnel, first," he informed his nurse.

"Yes, sir. Everything's ready," she answered with quiet confidence.

"And so, the nightmare begins again," he whispered to himself.

Major Houlihan, assisting at Colonel Potter's table, was unable to observe Sarabeth as closely as she had previously. She still managed to give the other woman instructions, however. "Remember what we discussed last time, Lieutenant MacAllister."

"Oh, yes, ma'am. I do remember," the younger woman replied.

* * *

Captain Hunnicutt exhaled slowly as another man was moved into the recovery room. He stretched and shifted positions. He walked over to observe Winchester's surgery while his next patient was brought in.

"Sarabeth," the doctor spoke, "didn't I see you and Charles out in Sophie's pen the other day?"

"One moment, sir," the nurse answered. "Will this bother you?" She asked her surgeon.

Major Winchester gave a brief shake of his head and focused on his surgical field. "Long fingers," he ordered.

"Long fingers." She handed him the instrument before responding to the captain's inquiry. "Yes, sir. You did see us out there with Sophie. We were performing farrier services."

"Farrier services?" Father Mulcahy was confused.

"Basically, sir, we were trimming her toenails," MacAllister explained.

The Boston-bred doctor snorted and rolled his eyes at that over-simplification. His Big Oak-bred nurse caught his expression and grinned to herself.

"You did a good job. Sophie and I appreciate it," the colonel told them.

"Thank you, sir. You know, I considered borrowing someone's nail polish and painting her hooves bright red."

"_WHAT_!" Potter thundered.

"But I decided it wasn't worth the court-martial," the woman added.

The senior officer was relieved, "Good decision, Lieutenant."

"Toenail painting, huh?" Captain Pierce commented. "And all this time, we thought the two of you were out there _horsing_ around."

"Pierce," Winchester replied, "I realize it is difficult for you, but try not to make an ass of yourself."

"Right. I forgot---you're the resident expert on that subject."

"_Whoa_, gents," Potter intervened. "We have a long OR session ahead of us. Let's just keep this..." He hesitated and then added, "_Neigh_-borly." He chuckled, pleased with his puns.

B J laughed as well. "You're right, Colonel. We don't want to _stirrup_ trouble."

"OK. I guess I was just feeling my _oats,_" Hawkeye remarked.

"Well, now that that's _saddled_," Sarabeth joined in, "do y'all know what they call a short pony with a soar throat?"

"MacAllister!" Major Houlihan's angry voice cut across the friendly conversations. "I told you---my nurses are not to participate in these exchanges with the doctors."

"Yes, ma'am," Sarabeth answered, the laughter in her voice disappearing as her chin lifted in challenge. Her surgeon noticed her determined look and raised his eyebrows in silent warning. She ignored him. "I apologize, Major," she replied courteously. "I'll try to be-_hoof_ better."

A snicker of laughter from Potter's anesthetist was squelched by a murderous glare from the head nurse. "Lieutenant MacAllister, see me after this OR session is over."

"Yes, Major," she drawled in response.

* * *

"You know, Hunnicutt," Major Winchester's smug accent ended the uneasy operating silence, "in addition to giving a mare a manicure, the lieutenant and I also discussed the merits of the sport of water polo."

MacAllister looked at him quizzically but remained quiet.

"Water polo? Guess I'm not too familiar with that one," smiling behind his mask, B J followed Winchester's unexpected lead.

"I would hardly expect a California native to know about this civilized equestrian activity. However, it is quite the rage in Boston."

"How do you keep the horses from drowning? _Life jackets_?" retorted Hawkeye.

"Your ignorance never ceases to amaze me, Pierce. Only a special breed of pony is acceptable for this sport," the major paused, savoring the moment. "We use..._sea horses_...of course."

He looked at MacAllister. Her shoulders were shaking with suppressed laughter and her eyes were dancing with merriment. She mimed doffing a hat in salute. He gravely inclined his head, accepting her accolades.

Hawkeye Pierce was laughing so hard that he was having trouble standing at his table. Other people were staring at the officer in amazement. They were used to his snobbish remarks. They were not used to him being amusing.

"Charles," B J spoke in praise, "I have to hand it to you. I didn't think you had it in you."

"Neither did I," Major Winchester answered in a low tone that only his surgical nurse could hear. She winked at him in response.

* * *

The OR session continued long into the night. Every time a table was cleared, another injured man was set down. The line of wounded soldiers never seemed to stop. Occasionally, trying to release some of their tensions, Pierce and Hunnicutt talked and joked as they operated. Only a professional murmur was heard from the medical team located at the far end of the operating room, however.

* * *

With a faint exhalation of pain, Major Winchester rotated his wrist and stretched his cramped fingers before resuming his shrapnel removal. He caught Lieutenant MacAllister's concerned look. She met his challenging gaze without comment.

Later, when all of the metal fragments were finally removed from the patient, she asked, "Doctor, may I work on the muscle tissue repair?" Her soft-spoken words didn't carry beyond their area.

"Indeed not," the surgeon spoke curtly. Belatedly realizing that she was trying to give him an opportunity to rest, Winchester considered her request. At his nod, she began her sutures.

Grateful for the respite, the major leaned against the OR wall. His nurse called to Father Mulcahy to bring him some orange juice. Winchester sipped some from the glass that was held for him and then closed his eyes. He kept his hands beside him, slowly clenching and relaxing his fists.


	23. 23

TWENTY THREE

* * *

Oct. 12th: 0830 hours

"Doctor Winchester. Wait, please." Lieutenant MacAllister caught up with him outside the surgeon's changing room. "Let me help you with your scrubs---out here---so I won't embarrass myself again."

Exhausted, the officer nodded in agreement. MacAllister helped him slip out of the tops of his surgical scrubs. Sitting down on a bench, Winchester cradled his head in his hands.

She tossed the blood stained clothes into a nearby hamper. "I've been told I give a darn good back rub. May I?"

He nodded again---too tired to speak. The woman stood beside him. Her fingers glided across his shoulder blades in soothing circular motions.

"You did some mighty fine knitting in there, sir," MacAllister whispered.

"Yes, I did," he agreed without conceit. The doctor tilted his head to look at her. "And you are a first-rate surgical nurse." He liked the way she smiled at him.

"Thank you, sir." She worked to reduce the muscle tension in his neck. "And thank you for that wonderful line in there!"

"I hadn't realized puns were so contagious," he muttered.

"Perhaps we should work on a _pun_-noculation," she suggested.

"Work on my right shoulder some more, instead," the major directed as he closed his eyes. "Sarabeth, Major Houlihan doesn't appreciate your sense of humor. Was it worth it?"

"You probably should ask me that question after I have my meeting with her," MacAllister answered, ruefully, as she gently kneaded his shoulder. "However, yes. It was worth it. And, yes. I know I'm going to pay dearly for that smart aleck remark. Sometimes, sir, you have to grab the knife, even though you know you're going to get cut."

"That was one of the very first things we were taught in medical school---how not to cut ourselves with our scalpels," he responded acerbically.

Hawkeye Pierce stumbled into the area. He saw the two of them and sank onto the bench beside the other surgeon. "Is this a private massage or can anyone have one?"

"You're in luck, sir. I have a 2-for-1 special, tonight." Sarabeth limped over to him and rubbed his shoulders. She gave him the same gentle treatment she had given to the man still slumped beside him.

Pierce exhaled. "Sarabeth, I think I have to talk to you. Officially."

"Yes, sir." She dropped her hands to her side, stood at attention and waited for him to speak.

"I can get you on a surgical team. But I can't..." he shrugged. "I can't help you with anything else."

"Understood, sir. I'm not asking for any intervention. I've been taught that you have to ride the horse you draw." She smiled at their puzzled expressions. "Rodeo lingo. Do y'all realize there are some serious gaps in your _Yankee_ education? They sure don't teach the important things up North, do they?"

The woman placed a hand on each man's shoulder. "Now, I want both of y'all to take a hot shower and get some sleep."

"Don't tell me we're getting more wounded, soon," Winchester groaned.

"Not for a while, I think. I just want y'all well rested---so I can finish beating y'all at Stomp."

"Lieutenant," the major said, "I seem to recall that I was winning the game."

"Only temporarily, sir," MacAllister assured him with a grin.

* * *

Major Houlihan walked out of the nurse's changing room with Lieutenant Thompson. Because of the partially drawn curtain, she didn't see the three people. Rather than remain hidden, however, the Texan moved towards her ranking officer.

"Major," she called. The head nurse turned to face her. "Do you want me to help with the OR clean up before or after I report to you?"

"I want you in the OR first. You'll be handling the clean up detail by yourself. That means everything---equipment sterilized, trays packed, gowns and aprons washed, walls and tables disinfected---everything."

MacAllister nodded. "I'll get it done, ma'am."

Houlihan was expecting an argument from her wayward nurse. She was not expecting quiet acceptance. "And I want it done right. Otherwise, you'll be doing it over again."

"Rest assured, Major. MacAllisters do the job right...the first time."

"And, one more thing: after you finish in the operating room, relieve Riggs for the rest of the first post-op shift."

"I was scheduled for second and fifth post-op duty."

"I rescheduled you. You now have first and fourth."

Sarabeth sighed, "Yes, ma'am." She stretched. "Major, before I get started, I'm going to have to take a break. I'd like to take a shower. I need to visit the latrine. And my stomach thinks my throat's been cut."

The head nurse relented. MacAllister's requests were not unreasonable. "You may take a 30 minute break. But no longer than that. Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly clear, ma'am."


	24. 24

TWENTY FOUR

* * *

Oct. 12th: 1430 hours

"Lieutenant, aren't you supposed to be off duty for the second post-op shift?" Major Winchester asked while he made his rounds with the ward nurses.

"Yes, sir. However, any time I have a shift change, with a surgeon coming on, I like to make sure he can read my writing," MacAllister answered as she limped beside him. She was smiling but he could see the exhaustion etched around her eyes.

"She's also waiting on her relief," Lieutenant Kellye informed him. "Parnelli's late---again."

"Ah, yes. Punctual Parnelli," Winchester commented and reached for another patient chart.

The major methodically examined each man. MacAllister gave concise reports on the treatments and progress of her charges while Kellye jotted down any new notations the doctor made. The three quickly completed their medical reviews.

MacAllister reported, "That's all of the patients, sir."

"Correction, Lieutenant," he replied. "I have one more patient who requires my attention."

"Who, sir?" the nurse was puzzled. "We've already visited both post-op wards."

"You are in need of a physician's care. Sit down at the nurse's station and let me examine that ankle," Doctor Winchester ordered.

He knelt by her chair and shook his head. "The edema has extended beyond the cast. I don't see how you are able to even stand on that leg, Lieutenant. Have you taken an analgesic?"

"I never take any medication while on duty, sir," MacAllister explained. Her face was pale and her lips were white-lined from his examination. "I'll take some as soon as I get back to the ranch house."

"See that you do," the man said. "Nurse Kellye, bring me a cast saw and a basin with warm water and Epsom salts."

* * *

The side doors to the post-op building were opened and rapidly closed against the cool outside air. Lieutenant Parnelli, hanging up her jacket, called to them, "Sorry. I'm late."

"We noticed," Lieutenant MacAllister replied mildly. She was still soaking her foot. Most of the color had returned to her face.

"I overslept. When you're coming off 20 hours in the OR as an anesthetist, six hours of sleep just isn't enough," the arriving nurse explained.

"Yes, it is rough with only six hours of sleep, isn't it?" Sarabeth's touch of sarcasm was lost on the new arrival.

"You said it. I hope I didn't miss anything important."

"Not at all, Lieutenant," Major Winchester answered. "I don't mind repeating my instructions. Would you be so kind as to sign this?" he asked solicitously. He handed her the duty log and looked at his watch. "Good heavens, is it 1500 hours already? One moment, Lieutenant Parnelli; I shall get back to you."

Major Winchester carried the ledger over to Lieutenant MacAllister. After she signed it, the officer called for Corporal Klinger to bring a wheelchair.

"Since your relief has finally arrived, Lieutenant, you may go off duty. You will now take a painkiller, won't you?" His words were not a request.

"Yes, sir. But I don't reckon a wheelchair is necessary..." At his scowl, she ended her protest. "Guess I don't have a _leg_ to stand on, sir," she told him with a grin.

The man shook his head in exasperation. "I'm going to have to find that vaccine quickly," he noted.

* * *

When Corporal Klinger arrived, the major graciously extended his arm to the woman and helped her to her feet. Wincing, MacAllister clung to his arm for a moment until she caught her balance. As he was helping her into her jacket, Winchester instructed the corporal to take the nurse to her quarters. The medic promised to deliver her safely. Lieutenant MacAllister looked at both of them in sudden suspicion. Innocently, they gazed back at her.

Outside the hospital, Sarabeth asked, "Klinger, just what are you and the major up to?"

"I'm up to 5' 7 1/2". I think the major is almost 6' 3", ma'am." He grinned. At her annoyed look, he changed the subject. "The mail came in on the supply truck yesterday. But everyone was too busy to do anything about it. You got five packages! I put them in your quarters... which is where you are supposed to be... in your quarters."

"I get the message," MacAllister told him with a laugh. "Onward to the ranch house."

As he pushed her wheelchair across the compound, Sarabeth pulled her coat closer around her. "This wind sure has a bite to it! I bet my tent's going to be cold."

* * *

"Major, may I speak with you a moment?" Corporal Klinger asked when he entered the hospital building.

"Certainly," Winchester replied. "Lieutenant Kellye, I shall return momentarily."

Inside the clerk's office, he questioned, "Did she like it? What did she say?"

The corporal gave his report. "When she first entered, she said: _Great_! _You lit my heater for me_. Then she looked around at the table. Her eyes got big. And her smile just grew and grew. She said: _This is wonderful_! And she asked whose idea it was."

"I told her that it was mine but that you had said it needed some embellishments...like the tablecloth, the candlestick and the crystal goblets. I said the cloth bouquet was from me. And the glasses were from you---with the instructions that they were to be filled with Madetta Brandy, only. She laughed and said she had gotten tired of coffee cups."

"When I lit the candle, her eyes were shining brighter than it was. She was biting her lip, like she was trying not to cry. She said: _Max, you don't know how much I needed your kindness! And, I can't thank you, or Major Winchester, enough_."

"I told her we were glad to do it. Then, I told her to enjoy her meal---even if it did come from the mess tent---take her pain medicine and get some sleep. She thanked me again. And she said to thank you, as well." The corporal smiled. "Major, I'm glad we did that for her!"

"Max, I have to hand it to you---sometimes you do have good ideas," Winchester commented. "Well done!"

Both men, pleased with the results of their efforts, returned to their duties.


	25. 25

TWENTY FIVE

* * *

Oct. 14th: 1000 hours

"How many more do we have out there?" Colonel Potter questioned. He was tired and his feet hurt.

"Four more, sir," a corpsman answered. He was helping to carry in another man to treat. They set him down at a surgeon's empty table.

Doctor Winchester looked at the leg wound and shook his head. "Arterial reconstruction: it looks difficult. Luckily, for this lad, he has me for his surgeon. But what I wouldn't give for a chance to do some elective surgery, again!"

"Well, Charles, if you want some elective surgery done, I'll be happy to remove your ego," the surgeon at the other end of the operating room contributed.

"Pierce, since I can not possibly express myself in the one syllable words that your simple little mind can comprehend, I shall simply say...nothing," the major responded.

"How about everyone saying nothing for awhile?" B J Hunnicutt spoke for the first time. He was frowning over his patient. He had been frowning over this one for some time.

"What's wrong?" Immediately, Hawkeye dropped his caustic routine.

"This kid. He's got enough metal in him to open up his own junk yard. And too many bleeders. I can't tie them off fast enough. Lap sponge," he ordered. His surgical nurse was already holding one out for him and was reaching for another with her other hand.

"I'll be free in a minute, Beej," Hawkeye told him.

"He may not have a minute. He's spilling blood out faster than we can pump it in. Hang another unit of A+. I'm going to have to speed this up. Sarabeth, you start sealing the bleeders on your side," the surgeon decided. "I'll work over here. Margaret, I need another nurse."

"Right away, sir," the major responded. She was working with Major Winchester. She issued her orders, "Parnelli, get that blood hung and assist Doctor Hunnicutt. Goldman, take Baker's place in pre-op and tell her to report to the OR."

Lieutenant Parnelli, the rover for this OR session, was transferring the blood bottle tubing when Lieutenant MacAllister suddenly called out to her, "**HOLD IT**!" Her words rang out as a sharp command in the operating room. "Parnelli, check that blood!"

"It's B+...like he said."

"A! Parnelli, A!"

"Oh, my god!" Realizing her mistake, the nurse was shaking. "I'm sorry!"

"Just get another unit hung. And we need more clamps and sponges," MacAllister told her. She was too busy to say anything else.

"Parnelli, see me after the OR session is over," Major Houlihan spoke.

"Is the seal broken on the B?" Colonel Potter asked at the same time.

"Yes, ma'am. No, sir," the nurse replied. Still visibly upset, she brought another unit of blood to the surgeon's table. Parnelli showed it to MacAllister who nodded in approval. She hung the container and removed the other one.

"Don't discard that one," the colonel directed. "We can still use it."

The lieutenant returned the blood to the medical refrigerator. She quickly brought the supplies needed at Doctor Hunnicutt's table and began to work. Her hands were still trembling.

"Take a deep breath, Monica," Sarabeth MacAllister advised as she continued her suturing. "We need you calm."

Colonel Potter summoned his company clerk. When Klinger showed his head around the edge of the operating room door, Potter said, "Get in touch with HQ, again. Tell them that we're in _desperate_ need of blood. And that we need it now!"

Doctor Pierce requested new gloves as he walked over to where Hunnicutt was working. The surgical nurse moved over for him. "What a mess!" he declared. "I'll work on this side. Sarabeth, you start on that shoulder. See if you can't control some of that bleeding," he ordered as his nurse joined him at B J's side.

"Yes, sir," MacAllister answered. She hooked her stool with her foot, pulled it to her and rested her knee on it. She called to the nurse who was hurrying into the operating room, "Baker, I need a suture kit."

* * *

Corporal Klinger slammed down the phone in disgust. "Stupid idiots!" he shouted in the empty office. He heard the sound of a jeep being parked. Walking outside, he saw the driver looking around as he removed his helmet. Even with the short military cut of his hair, the clerk could see the red color of it. "You have to be a MacAllister," he exclaimed in amazement.

The man grinned as he unfolded himself out of the jeep. "I reckon you're right about that. Colonel Crockett MacAllister," he announced.

Klinger straightened and crisply saluted. "Corporal Max Klinger, sir."

His salute was returned. "Klinger, eh? Sarabeth has written to me about you."

"I hope some of it was good, sir," the company clerk replied nervously.

Sarabeth MacAllister had claimed that all of her brothers were tall and big. But she had neglected to mention just how tall and how big. Crockett MacAllister stood 6' 4". With handsome features, broad shoulders, well-developed muscles and a commanding presence, he towered over the other man.

"At ease, Corporal," the colonel told him with a familiar grin. "My little sister thinks highly of you."

Klinger sighed in relief. "I'm glad to hear that, sir. Lieutenant MacAllister's in the OR right now. And, if you'll excuse me, I have to go tell my CO that we still can't get any blood delivered to us."

"Y'all are low on blood?"

"We're practically out of blood! HQ says we've already received our allotment. But we didn't because a mortar hit the supply truck before it arrived here. And so, anyone who isn't actively in the OR, is giving blood. And everyone in camp donated seven days ago."

"Go try HQ, again, Corporal," Colonel MacAllister directed. "But this time, let me talk to them."

The clerk grinned, "Yes, sir! Right this way."

* * *

"My brother's here," Lieutenant MacAllister announced in surprise.

"Is he injured?" Captain Pierce asked.

"No, sir. I wonder what he's doing in our neck of the woods."

* * *

"...And I want that blood on its way in an hour. One hour. Do you understand me, Captain? Good. Out," Colonel MacAllister disconnected the line.

"OK, Corporal. One more call," he wrote some information on a sheet of paper and gave it to the clerk who obeyed with alacrity.

"It's ringing, sir."

The officer took the phone. "Sterling? MacAllister. I want some volunteers to donate blood. Right. At the 4077th MASH. On the double. Out."

He handed the receiver back to Klinger. "Keep that number in a safe place. If y'all ever need blood again---I mean really need it---call and ask for me. I'll see that y'all get some."

"Thank you, sir! We have to use a lot of blood around here."

"And now, Corporal," MacAllister grinned, "do you reckon I can see my sister?"

* * *

"Good news, Colonel," Klinger announced. "HQ is sending us some more blood... right away!"

"Good job, Corporal! I knew you could make some kind of a horse trade."

"Actually, sir," the company clerk confessed, "I had some help from Colonel MacAllister. He's waiting for permission to visit the OR."

"Send him in. I want to meet him."

The visiting colonel exchanged his sidearm for a surgical mask and walked into the surgery area. His entrance caused a stir in the OR. The nurses couldn't keep their eyes off him. They seemed to be having trouble breathing, as well.

Hawkeye Pierce, glancing over his shoulder, paled slightly. Sarabeth caught his attention and winked at him. "Aren't you glad I don't take your passes seriously?" she asked in a low voice that contained laughter.

"I'm also glad I didn't tell you some of my fantasies," he admitted.

"Oh, my!" Major Houlihan whispered to Major Winchester, "They certainly grow them big in Texas!"

"Stop drooling," Winchester whispered back to her. He concentrated on his patient.

"Hello, Colonel MacAllister," Sherman Potter greeted him. "I'm Colonel Potter. Welcome to the 4077th. I understand you're responsible for getting us some more blood. We thank you for that. We were down to squeezing the proverbial turnip."

"Glad I could help, sir."

Colonel Potter made the introductions of his senior officers. "And I believe you already know Lieutenant MacAllister."

"I reckon I have seen her around the ranch a time or two." His accent and the sparkle in his eyes were identical to his sister's.

Sarabeth laughed. "Howdy, big brother."

"Howdy, little sister. I see you're having fun."

"Oh, yes. Up to my elbows in it. Crockett, I'm kinda busy right now. How long can you stay?"

"Overnight. If that's all right with your CO."

"Absolutely," Potter replied. "You can stay in the VIP tent."

"Thank you, sir. I appreciate your hospitality. And, if y'all don't mind, I'd like to observe this OR session for a few minutes."

"Certainly, Colonel."

"Are you sure you won't faint?" Sarabeth asked mischievously.

Her brother roared with laughter. "If I do, I'll be sure to fall on you," he promised.

* * *

"Thompson, close this for me," Potter directed. He moved away from his table to observe Captain Hunnicutt's operation. "How's it going, boys?"

"We've finally contained the bleeding, Colonel. We're working on repairs, now," the surgeon replied. "How's his pressure?" he asked.

"Still dropping, Doctor," Lieutenant Hernandez, the anesthetist, responded.

"Pump some more blood into him." Hunnicutt directed, "Christie, another unit of A+."

The nurse brought over a container and attached it to the IV stand. "A, sir. And that's the last bottle."

"He's going to need more than that. Colonel, when's that truck coming in?"

"It should be here before 1200 hours."

"That's not soon enough." B J shook his head in frustration. "He needs it now!"

"We can collect his blood, filter it and give it back to him," Hawkeye suggested.

Dr. Hunnicutt nodded. "That will have to do."

* * *

"Thank you, Colonel Potter, ladies and gentlemen," Colonel MacAllister addressed the operating room staff. "Sarabeth has written to me about all of y'all. It is a pleasure to finally be able to put names with faces. Or with half-faces---above masks, anyway." His grin showed in his eyes.

"The pleasure is all ours, Colonel," Major Houlihan assured him.

"Crockett, I'll be finished in here before too long." Sarabeth informed her brother. "You can wait in my tent, if you like. There's some letters and cookies from home on my desk. And some very fine brandy." Her eyes were sparkling. "But you'll have to find it, first."

"I always have liked treasure hunts," he replied with a laugh.

* * *

"Where do you want to go, sir?" Klinger asked the colonel as they left the hospital. "The VIP tent or the lieutenant's quarters?"

"Where are the blood donations taking place?"

"In the Officer's Club; Lieutenant Kellye's in charge of it."

"I want to stop there, first."

* * *

A medic, carrying bottles of blood, placed them in the refrigerator and reported to the commanding officer, "That's the last of the camp personnel and the Korean volunteers, sir. Lieutenant Kellye says she'll have another unit of A+ in a few minutes."

"Where did she find another donor? I thought we had tapped everyone."

"Colonel MacAllister. He told Lieutenant Kellye..." Corporal Hounder tried to imitate the Texan's accent, "_I reckon I can spare a pint or two_."

"Crockett," Sarabeth whispered. Her smile, hidden behind her mask, was affectionate. "You're the treasure."


	26. 26

TWENTY SIX

* * *

AN: Thanks to Jenos, Werty & Major Disaster for your kind words. I hope y'all enjoy the next few chapters. Maybe I should post a warning that "pun"-ting season is still open. : )

* * *

Oct. 14th: 1330 hours

Arm in arm, the two MacAllisters strolled across the compound. The older one adjusted his stride to match the younger one's awkward gait. They were deep into their conversation which was frequently punctuated by their laughter.

The two Texans stopped at the signpost. BOSTON was, once again, the top placard. Grinning, the man commented, "I reckon I have to do something about that."

"Yes, I reckon you do," the woman agreed.

* * *

Watching the sign swapping from inside the Swamp, Major Winchester smiled. "The MacAllisters are now headed for the mess tent," he reported. In his robe, fresh from the shower, he began shaving near the warmth of the heater. "Why don't you join them, Pierce? You can invite Sarabeth to take a shower with you---as you suggested yesterday."

Hawkeye, resting on his cot, was still in his blood stained scrubs. "I'm not hungry", he replied.

"In the changing room, Hawk, you said you were starving," B J contributed.

"Do you suppose, Hunnicutt," the major asked as he set aside his shaving kit and pulled on his fatigues, "that our Camp Casanova is reluctant to meet the brother of his would-be romance?"

"I don't think so, Charles. Just because MacAllister looks like he could pick up a jeep---single handedly---and throw it a hundred feet, doesn't mean that Hawkeye is afraid to meet him," Hunnicutt replied with a grin.

"Look, I'm just not hungry," Hawkeye protested. Squawking noises were heard from his tent mates. "What about you, Charles?" he asked. "I don't recall you drawing too much attention to yourself in the OR when he arrived."

"I was saving a man's leg; which is far more important than impressing a visiting colonel."

"All I can say is," B J added, "I'm glad my conscience is clear. I wouldn't want MacAllister mad at me."

"Which one?" Winchester asked with a smile of his own.

* * *

"You're going to love eating here, Crockett." Sarabeth informed her brother while they waited to move through the serving line. "The food's terrible but the nausea's great."

"Colonel MacAllister," Major Houlihan happened to walk by. "Why don't you sit with us?"

"Thank you for the invitation, Major." The man's friendly smile had a devastating effect on the woman.

"Please, call me Margaret," she stammered.

"Only if you will call me Crockett," MacAllister informed her.

"Crockett---what an unusual name."

"I was named for Davy Crockett, ma'am: a hero who died at the Alamo."

"Really?" The head nurse took the officer by the arm and led him away. "So, what branch of the Army are you assigned to?"

"I'm with G-2," the colonel answered.

"How interesting! Your sister never mentioned that you were with Army Intelligence. Or that you were a full-bird colonel. Or that you were so handsome."

"I reckon that must have slipped her mind." The Texan glanced over his shoulder at his sister. She had an amused smirk on her face.

Still smiling, Sarabeth followed them to the table. Colonel Potter and Father Mulcahy were sitting on one side of it. Major Houlihan directed Colonel MacAllister to the other side. "There's room for you here, Crockett." She indicated the space on the bench next to her.

"Thanks, Margaret," he replied with courtesy. "How about if we move down some more? Sarabeth needs to sit on this side, as well. We southpaws have to take the outside corners, or sit next to each other, whenever possible."

Frowning slightly, Major Houlihan quickly recovered and smiled at him. "Of course." She slid down the bench.

Colonel MacAllister placed his tray on the table. He waited until both women were seated before sitting between them. "This must be my lucky day!" he commented. "Two beautiful ladies to keep me company."

MacAllister introduced himself to the men across the table and shook their hands. "It's nice to meet both of y'all. Sarabeth is always talking about y'all in her letters."

"You know, Colonel, I can't get over how much the two of you look alike. There's no question you're related," the priest observed.

"Oh, Father Mulcahy!" Sarabeth sounded shocked. "Surely you don't really think I look like this big galoot! You've...you've ruined my entire day!"

"Oh, dear," the gentle man was dismayed. "I'm...I'm sorry."

Crockett elbowed Sarabeth in the ribs. "She's teasing you, Father," he explained.

His sister rubbed her side and nodded in agreement. "I apologize, sir." She told him with genuine contriteness. "We do look very much alike. But I don't cause near as much trouble as my brothers." She grinned at her sibling.

"Little sisters can be a pain, sometimes," Crockett announced with a smile.

"They can, indeed," Major Winchester contributed. He and Captain Pierce had entered the tent, obtained their food and were approaching the table when MacAllister spoke. The major set down his tray when the colonel offered his name and his hand to both of them. "Charles Winchester," he introduced himself, as well. After shaking hands, the doctor moved to sit across from Lieutenant MacAllister.

"Hawkeye Pierce. Sarabeth's a great nurse! We're lucky to have her here at the 4077th," the Chief Surgeon told the Texan when he shook his hand. He sat on the other side of Major Houlihan.

"I'm glad to meet y'all," the older MacAllister spoke to them with the drawl they were now accustomed to hearing. "My sister says y'all are excellent doctors...even if y'all are Yankees," he told them with a grin.

"Thanks a lot, Crockett!" his sister laughed. "Getting back to your erroneous statement," the younger MacAllister declared, "it is not the sisters who are the pains. It is the brothers who cause all of the trouble!"

"Name a for instance," Crockett challenged.

"For instance: who convinced a three year old she could fly? Then let her jump out of the barn loft---just to see if she really could!"

"It was only 15 feet. There was plenty of hay down there. You didn't get hurt." MacAllister justified his actions. The siblings were face to face, seemingly angry. Everyone could see, however, there was a great deal of affection and love between the two.

"I didn't fly, either!" Sarabeth declared indignantly.

"That's because you didn't flap your arms hard enough!" Crockett retorted.

Sarabeth started to laugh, tried to control it, but gave into the merriment. Her brother was watching her with enjoyment. She shook her head in surrender. "You win, big brother. What do you want?"

"A game of chess with you."

"You've got it. Major Winchester, Captain Pierce, may we come over to the Swamp and use your chess set?"

"Sure," Hawkeye Pierce agreed.

"With one proviso," Charles Winchester added, "I play the winner."

"Certainly," MacAllister looked at the surgeon with increased interest. "I'm looking forward to setting a board with you."

"Hey!" Sarabeth protested. "What makes you think you're going to win?"

Her brother grinned at her in reply.

Margaret Houlihan remarked, "I, for one, think it is simply fascinating to know someone from G-2." She smiled at the visiting officer. "Can you tell us some of the things you do?"

The Texan grinned, "Just last week I located a general's missing cat."

Pierce was incredulous. "You're kidding, right? You weren't actually out looking for some stray cat, were you?"

"I spent the better part of a morning searching for that cat," the colonel replied earnestly. "I found her---right before she became the main course for an elderly Korean couple."

"Crockett earned his Eagle Scout badge as a Search-and-Rescue volunteer," Sarabeth offered as an explanation. She grinned at her brother. "I'm glad the Army has finally found a use for your talents, brother mine."

"You know, Hawkeye," the young woman continued, "in addition to apprehending AWOL animals, my brother's also very good at solving puzzles. He's one of the few people I know who can work a crossword puzzle in ink. Why don't you tell him that story you told me...about calling your friend in the Navy to help you solve that puzzle?"

Hawkeye grinned. "OK. See, we were working on a Times crossword, puzzle. All we needed was a five letter word for a bedbug..."

As the doctor told his story, everyone began to eat. Quickly, however, they put down their forks.

"Oh, Crockett, I'm sorry." His sister was unhappy. "I thought I was kidding about the quality of the food, today. This is horrible!"

"So, this is how the North Koreans are attempting to win the war," Winchester noted in distaste, "through food poisoning."

Pierce pushed his plate away. "I can't eat this. I just operated on it."

Glancing at each other, Crockett and Sarabeth MacAllister resolutely kept eating.

"Colonel, you don't have to eat this..._slop_...just to be polite," Potter was apologetic. "The cook must have worked overtime to make this meal this bad."

"Thank you, sir. But I'm not being polite," MacAllister explained. "You see, there was a period of time when things were really rough around the MacAllister Ranch. Even though we had cattle, every time we had to slaughter one, it meant we had already lost future earnings. So, we tried to make each steer last as long as possible. Sometimes, my mother would put the food on our plates and then she and my dad would watch us eat."

"But they wouldn't eat anything," Sarabeth took over the tale, "because there just wasn't enough food for seven hungry little kids and two adults. I'd look at their empty plates and I'd feel so bad. I, at least, had had something to eat---but my mama and daddy hadn't had anything at all! That's why I hate to see food being wasted. Every time I see food being thrown away...I see the hunger in my mama's eyes."

She bit her lip, bowed her head and blinked back sudden tears. Tenderly, the elder MacAllister stroked her hair.

"What made it even worse for me," Crockett added, "was, not only did my folks have to go without food, but there wasn't very much for us kids, either. I would look at my younger brothers and sister---and I knew how hungry they were---because I was just as hungry, myself. Except...there wasn't anything I could about it."

"And, this little gal---no bigger than a minute---would be there, smiling at us and telling jokes...trying to make us laugh...trying to make us forget our empty bellies." He shook his head at the memories. "Anyway, that's why MacAllisters always clean their plates...no matter how revolting the food."

"That kind of hunger does leave its mark on people," Father Mulcahy commented. "It makes you appreciate the food you have, even more."

"Not enough for this food," Hawkeye remarked.

Sarabeth sighed and speared another piece of meat. She studied it critically. Her lip curled in disgust. "_Crockett_..." She looked at him from the corner of her eye. The sadness in her voice had been replaced with mischief.

"Oh, Lordy! I know that tone!" the man grinned. "What are you planning, sister mine?"

"Well, brother mine, I was thinking..."

"Always a dangerous habit," he remarked, smiling.

She raised an eyebrow at him in reprimand and continued, "If I were to take my tray and go waltzing outside..."

"You always have enjoyed dining and dancing," Crockett's amused smile was growing wider.

"And, if I suddenly became very clumsy, and spilled my tray, I'm sure Ernie, our camp canine, would help me pick up that mess."

"He'd probably lick the platter clean," Hawkeye contributed to the conversation.

"You're so right! He's such a kind, helpful dog." Sarabeth grinned at him.

"You know," Crockett MacAllister considered her words, "I haven't danced with you in a long time. Sarabeth, do you reckon you can do the two-step with that cast?"

"Just watch me!" she laughed and gathered her tray.

With his usual display of manners, Winchester came to his feet as she started to leave the table. MacAllister stood, as well. He gave the major a nod of approval before turning his attention to the other people at the table.

"Excuse us, ma'am, gentlemen. My sister and I are going to stir up some sawdust." Crockett grinned and picked up his tray. He stepped across the bench and walked to the door. The two sauntered out of the tent. Presently, their laughter and a dog's barking could be heard.

* * *

The Texans returned to the mess tent. As they entered, Pierce asked, "Back so soon? I though you kids were going to dance the night away."

"We couldn't," Crockett explained. "Sarabeth kept falling down."

"I kept tripping over your big feet, you mean!" she retorted. "I swear, Crockett, you are the clumsiest..."

"_Vehicles in the compound_." The PA system was activated, covering her words. "_No wounded_. _I repeat, no wounded_." The people in the mess tent clapped and cheered in relief. "_They're here to donate blood, folks_. _Let's get it before they change their minds_!"

"You doctors stay put," Major Houlihan ordered. "My nurses can handle this. Let's go, ladies!" She called to the women in the tent.

"Crockett, you wouldn't happen to know anything about this, would you?" Sarabeth asked in suspicious speculation.

"Nope. I'm surprised at you." he replied, trying to keep a grin from appearing.

His sister smiled happily at him. She hugged him tightly. "Thanks, big brother!"

MacAllister kissed her forehead before pushing her towards the door. "Go! You know that Mama has always told you to mind your _majors_."


	27. 27

TWENTY SEVEN

* * *

Oct. 14th: 1700 hours

"Charles, is B J still over in post-op?" Sarabeth asked. Inside the Swamp, she was sitting, with her feet elevated, next to her brother.

Winchester, standing at his desk, was pouring up some tea. "He is, indeed. He's worried about Private Wellington." The doctor walked over to the table and handed Sarabeth a steaming cup.

"Thanks, Charles," she grinned. "I can't wait to introduce you to icedtea."

"A culinary delight, I'm quite certain." Winchester responded. "Colonel? Another brandy?" he offered.

"No, thanks," the officer answered. "Wellington? Is he the kid y'all were working on when I came in?"

"That's the one. He's in bad shape. But he'll be all right," the young woman answered, "especially since he's had a Texas transfusion." Sarabeth smiled at her brother. Opening a tin of cookies, she passed it around. "This is supper," she told them.

"Dinner," replied the major as he returned to his chair.

"Supper," she corrected.

"You mean y'all aren't going to brave the mess tent again?" Crockett looked at them in amusement.

"Nope. The Geneva Convention prohibits two bad meals in the same day." Sarabeth nibbled on a cookie. "Brother mine, Charles and I have to go on duty in two hours. I'd like for y'all to finish this game before then!"

"Well, if someone would stop being such a chatterbox, sister mine," MacAllister retorted, "we might be able to concentrate and finish sooner."

"Charles, I do wish you wouldn't talk so much!" she teased.

Unperturbed, Winchester tasted his tea. "I apologize, Sarabeth. I shall try to behave better," he answered dryly.

She laughed merrily. "OK. I probably deserved that."

Crockett MacAllister lifted an eyebrow at her in question. She arched one at him in return. "I want to hear the full story on Fannin." The woman moved on to a different train of thought. Her brother didn't answer. "_Crockett_..." she warned.

"I know that tone, too," he told Winchester with a grin. "You know enough."

"All I know is that they dropped the court-martial charges. I want the details, Crockett," she spoke firmly.

MacAllister settled back in his chair. "You weren't supposed to arrive in Korea until October 3rd."

"That was not my fault!" Sarabeth answered angrily. "I was in the shower when they told me my transport was leaving for the airport in ten minutes. I didn't have time to contact anyone!"

"Whoa up, Sarabeth. I know that." Crockett squeezed her hand. "What you don't know is that I had sent Captain Sterling, a guard and a driver to escort you to the 4077th. They drove to Kimhbede on the afternoon of October 2nd; intending to spend the night and meet your plane early the next morning."

"They found the base in an uproar. The Officer's Club was wrecked. Some of the pilots had black eyes, bloody noses and loose teeth. Fannin was under arrest. And the base CO was on his way to the hospital after being thrown through a window."

The woman shook her head sadly. "I knew Fannin would do something stupid!"

"No one had any idea where you were---except that you had gone off with some Australian outfit. Sterling contacted me. I had Fannin transferred to my custody. And we started hunting for you."

"Around 1730 hours, a call was relayed to me. It was from the 4077th, stating that you had arrived safely. I spoke to Colonel Potter soon after that. He told me what you said about the incident. He described the bruises on your shoulder. And he gave me the names of the Australians who rescued you."

"I contacted Lieutenant Cochlan's outfit. I found out that he had also reported it to his CO. When I caught up with Cochlan, I talked to him. I like him, by the way."

"So do I," she replied, reaching for another cookie, her smile impish.

Crockett eyed her thoughtfully before continuing, "He told me what they had witnessed. And he told me some things that you neglected to mention in your call to me...like being under heavy enemy fire...the bullet hole in your sleeve...things like that."

Ignoring his implied criticisms, Sarabeth shrugged and drank her tea without replying.

"After I returned from the front, Fannin and I went to have a little _talk_ with his CO. During our discussion, Lieutenant Colonel Donovan agreed to drop all charges against Captain Fannin MacAllister and against Lieutenant Sarabeth MacAllister."

"What was he going to charge me with?" she asked curiously.

"Assault: you did rake your heel down his shinbone and then stomp on his instep." Crockett replied mildly. "Although, to be fair, he hadn't mentioned charging you with anything until _after_ he went through the window."

"I gave him fair warning: I told him to get his hands off me or he would regret it," Sarabeth said. "What else went on during that little _talk_?"

"You agreed not to file counter-assault charges against him. I agreed to transfer Fannin to another base. And Fannin and I both agreed **_not_** to kill Donovan..._this time_."

"I was afraid something like that was going to happen. That's why I wasn't going to tell y'all."

"Donovan was damned lucky that it was Fannin, and not me, who came back from a mission to hear him bragging about fondling a red-haired nurse! I wouldn't have just thrown him through a window...I would have taken him up in a chopper and bounced him off the ground a couple of times, first!" MacAllister responded angrily.

"Crockett," she whispered softly, "you won't always be able to protect me."

"I know that, Kitten." He gently touched her face. "But I will do everything I can to keep you safe!"

Colonel MacAllister looked at Winchester. The surgeon was sitting back in his chair, enjoying his tea, watching them with interest. "Sorry to keep you waiting, Major," Crockett apologized.

"That's OK, big brother," Sarabeth answered for the other man. "Everyone knows a doctor has to have _patients_."

The MacAllisters laughed and Winchester shook his head in response.

* * *

Oct. 14th: 1800 hours

Standing near Captain Pierce's bed, Sarabeth quietly covered the sleeping surgeon with a blanket. She walked back over to where the men were still sitting at the table. She put her hands on her brother's shoulders. He stretched his arm around her waist to pull her closer to him.

"I've been trying to think of words that rhyme with Korea," Sarabeth whispered. "So far, all I've thought of is...diarrhea. Any others?"

"Huntington's Chorea," the major suggested.

"Gonorrhea," was Crockett's response.

"Pyorrhea."

"Diphtheria."

"Bacteria."

"Hysteria."

Several more words were offered quietly.

"All of which aptly describe Korea," Sarabeth declared in a soft tone. "And, with those lovely words to inspire me, I think I'll go on duty early and see if I can't convince B J to come back to the Swamp to rest. Kellye may need some help, anyway."

"Kellye?" MacAllister didn't look up from the chess board. Nonchalantly, he asked, "Isn't she that pretty, dark-haired nurse who was collecting blood?"

"That's her."

"When she goes off duty, do you reckon Lieutenant Kellye might let me escort her to her tent?"

Sarabeth grinned, "I reckon she might. And, if she won't, the entire nursing staff will gladly volunteer for that honor."

She offered them the cookie tin. "Last call." At their refusals, she placed the container on the table next to the still. "The rest are for B J and Hawkeye." She collected her dishes. "Charles, where is the water bucket you keep for washing?"

"Pierce used it earlier to rinse out his socks," Winchester reported. "I haven't had the opportunity to refill it."

"Well, at least he's finally washing them!" Sarabeth smiled as Crockett helped her into her coat. "I get off at 0100 hours, brother mine. I'd welcome an escort, then."

"I'll be there," her brother promised her. "Major, do you want me to leave, as well?" the older MacAllister offered. "So you can get ready for duty?"

"Not at all, Colonel. Let's finish this tie breaker, shall we?"

* * *

Releasing her after a quick kiss, Crockett watched Sarabeth through the door screen. He waited until she was inside her quarters before returning to his seat. His expression was troubled. "How many sisters do you have, Winchester?"

"Only one. And I am **very** grateful that I do not have to worry about her being in this hellhole."

They resumed their chess game. For a few minutes, Crockett was silent. Then he said, "When I found out that she had signed up for a tour of duty here, I flew to home and argued with her until we nearly had a "knock-down-drag-out". She refused to change her mind."

"I could have her transferred to Tokyo General or even to a stateside hospital. And I probably should. But I know my sister. Short of chaining her to a tree, there's no way you can keep her where she doesn't want to be."

Winchester nodded in agreement. "I have noticed that she is rather...determined."

MacAllister grinned at him, "You can call her hard-headed. I have...on occasion."

"Sarabeth told me that the people who call her hard-headed are wrong."

Crockett laughed. "Does she tease you a lot, Winchester?"

"All the time."

"Do you mind?"

"I grumble about it. Actually, however, I enjoy it."


	28. 28

TWENTY EIGHT

* * *

Oct 14th: 2300 hours

All was quiet in the hospital ward. Private Wellington, Doctor Hunnicutt's patient, was recovering satisfactorily. Father Mulcahy was having an earnest conversation with a wounded soldier in the far corner. Lieutenant Baker and the corpsman had gone to the mess tent to bring back some coffee. Lieutenant MacAllister was writing a letter dictated to her by a young man who had both of his arms in traction. The rest of the patients were asleep. Major Winchester was sitting at the small desk end the end of post-op. He was using the opportunity to catch up on his correspondence:

_My dear Honoria,_

_Thank you for sending me the wool cap and scarf. They have arrived at the right time. Every night, the temperature here drops another degree or two. We have been informed that rain and bitter cold will arrive soon. I am not looking forward to spending the winter in this wretched camp._

_I'm glad you like the photographs I sent. As the ones of the sign post indicate, we are still moving our home state to the top position at every opportunity. We've given up nailing them. Instead, Sarabeth attached wires to the back of each board so we could hang them on the nails. They're easier to exchange, now._

_I told Sarabeth I was sending those photographs to show you what a Texan looked liked. She laughed that delightful laugh of hers and said it was about time I educated you in the important things in life. She did not intend that as an insult, by the way._

_Sarabeth teases me all the time that Yankees aren't being taught the right information. She says we should be taught things like...why the Alamo is so important...and how to brand cattle...and what to do if a skunk crawls into your sleeping bag. On the other hand, I tell her what her Texas education is lacking: what to wear to the opera, which wine should be served with baked fish and where to walk on the Commons._

_Do not think that I'm implying that she is ignorant, by any means! Despite their rural surroundings, her parents have always encouraged, and expected, their children to learn everything they could on a variety of topics. Sarabeth has regaled me with the lively discussions her family has participated in for years around their 'supper' table. In contrast, I am reminded of the deafening silences that reigned at our family dining experiences. _

_A working ranch hand since she was five years old; Sarabeth has had to tend cattle, repair barbed wire fences, bale hay, work a garden, milk cows---all types of work that I've never thought about---or even knew existed. Her earlier life was certainly a far cry from the tennis lessons, symphony concerts and polo matches of my youth. _

_It is amazing to me that two people, from entirely different backgrounds, can have so many things in common. And yet, we can sit and talk for hours and never run out of things to say. _

_I feel so comfortable around her. I enjoy being with her. I like to listen to her voice and to her laugh. I like to make her smile. I'm even beginning to enjoy her puns. (I shall deny having made that statement, however.)_

_I like her, Honoria: so very much. She's one of the few people I consider a true friend._

_Unfortunately, I'm about to lose this wonderful friend. Her three week grace period is almost over. She has not been given enough time for that ankle to heal. Hunnicutt has examined it almost every day. He's taken x-rays every time he's had to replace her cast. The prognosis is not good._

_She has to stand on that foot for hours and hours while in the operating room. Margaret Houlihan keeps her busy the rest of the time. And Sarabeth pushes herself too hard---trying to convince Margaret to allow her to stay at the 4077th._

_Every one knows that when Margaret returns from her medical conference, Sarabeth will be shipped out. I may not be able to prevent her transfer but I can give her something to remember the Yankee surgeon who likes her smile._

_I have a favor to ask of you, sweet sister. I would like for you to go to the jewelers where I purchase jewelry for you and Mother. Ask for Mr. Gilbert. Tell him I want him to create a pendant---about two inches long, made of good quality gold, with emeralds, sapphires and diamonds. I also want a gold chain, with a safety latch, to accompany the piece. The design is very important: I want it to be a Texas bluebonnet. _

_This is the hard part, Honoria. I do not know what a bluebonnet looks like. Sarabeth has tried to describe it to me but I can not visualize this flower. Speak to our Congressman and have him talk to the Congressman from Texas. Surely, he has an example of a bluebonnet that we may acquire._

_You'll have to supervise the design and manufacture of this piece. Remember, I want some tasteful and elegant...something special for a special lady. I realize this will be expensive. Contact my accountants for the funds you require. _

_I want this pendant as soon as possible. Offer a bonus: only if you must, however._

_I know this is not something that you are used to handling. I have confidence in your abilities, however. I am very proud of you. You are a wonderful and talented lady._

_I met Sarabeth's oldest brother today. Seeing how much he worries about her safety has made me realize how lucky I am to have you safe at home. I love you, Honoria. And I miss you._

_Take care of yourself. And take care of Mother…and Father…as well._

_Your loving brother,_

_Charles _


	29. 29

TWENTY NINE

* * *

Oct. 15th: 0600 hours

"Colonel Potter, thank you for your hospitality," Colonel MacAllister told the MASH commanding officer. The two were standing in the CO's office.

"Glad to have you, Colonel." Potter replied. "We thank you for all the blood you've provided us. Come back, again."

"I will. And, I'll keep in contact with you regarding the other matters we discussed." The Texan's demeanor was now serious.

Potter nodded grimly. "Thank you, Colonel, for the information. I want to keep these people as safe as possible."

"So do I." MacAllister agreed. Hearing laughter coming from the hospital ward, he grinned. "With your permission, I'd like to visit post-op before I leave."

* * *

The redheaded colonel walked into the post operative area with a smile for the nurses on duty. "Major Houlihan, I wanted to say goodbye to you and the other ladies."

"Certainly, sir. Colonel, I'm sorry you have to leave so soon. Please come back." The blonde officer smiled up at him. "Perhaps we'll be able to talk longer next time---discussing this MASH unit, of course."

"Of course," the Texan replied. "I'll be back every chance I get."

* * *

The colonel from G-2 also took the time to locate one nurse in particular. "Lieutenant Kellye, I sure enjoyed talking to you, last night. Would you mind if I wrote to you?"

"Not at all, sir," the woman told him with a shy smile. "I'd like that."

* * *

"Crockett, I sure wish you didn't have to go." Sarabeth said as she held her brother in a tight embrace.

"I'll be back as often as I can...now that I know where you are." Cradling her chin in the palm of his hand, he gazed at her with concern. "Remember, this is a dangerous place! Don't take any unnecessary chances."

Affectionately, she smiled at him. "I was going to tell you the same thing, big brother. We stayed up and talked all night. Are you going to be able to drive?"

"Sure. This isn't the first time I've lost sleep because of you, little sister," he teased. He held onto her, reluctant to turn her loose. "Lord, Sarabeth! I love you. _Please_ be careful!"

"I love you, too, Crockett," she stated and stretched to kiss him on the cheek. "And you had best be careful, yourself! You hear me?"

"I hear you," the tall Texan replied. He looked at the company clerk who was approaching and released his sister.

"Here you go, sir. A fresh pot of coffee for your trip," Corporal Klinger announced. He set the canteen in the colonel's jeep.

"Thanks, Corporal. I appreciate it." MacAllister leaned forward slightly. He whispered, "Keep taking good care of my sister, will you?"

"Yes, sir!" Klinger promised with enthusiasm.

The soldier climbed into his vehicle. Corporal Klinger and Lieutenant MacAllister stood at attention and saluted. He returned their salutes and then grinned, "Sister mine, get in out of the cold!"

"As soon as you leave, brother mine," Sarabeth retorted.

* * *

Sarabeth was still standing in the middle of the road after the jeep had disappeared beyond the hillside curve.

"This is a dangerous place, Crockett," she agreed. "Please, be very careful out there."


	30. 30

THIRTY

* * *

Oct. 16th: 0830 hours

_Dear Dad,_

_I finally received the letter that you wrote to me about a month ago. And, in a long-delayed response to your question; YES! Please mail me some long underwear! Send me gloves, mittens, socks, scarves, parkas...you name it, I need it._

_It is already cold here: and getting colder every day. Soon, we can be hip deep in both blood and snow. So send what you can. I'll probably get it some time in May._

_We had a visit from one of Sarabeth's brothers the other day. He's a colonel in Army Intelligence. I'm not sure exactly what he does. Reconnaissance, I think—they were both vague on that point. He is probably one of the few people connected with _A I_ who may actually have any intelligence. I had the feeling that he was analyzing and evaluating everything we said and did. _

_Crockett and Sarabeth act very much alike in many ways. They have many of the same facial expressions. Their sense of humor is similar. They like to make each other laugh, as well as other people._

_She played a wonderful trick on us the other day. We were in the Swamp while she was teaching us how to play a domino game. She shared a package of baked goods with us. We all ate some of the cookies and raved about the taste. They were very good!_

_B J asked what kind they were. Looking us straight in the eye---without a hint of planned mischief---she answered:_ cow pies

_Being city boys, it took us a few seconds to realize what she was implying. You should have seen the looks on B J and Charles's faces! It was priceless! I don't know how I looked---but Sarabeth was laughing so hard at us, she was having trouble breathing. _

_Finally, with tears running down her cheeks, she managed to tell us that the cookies weren't made of cow manure...only called that. She said that, years ago, her brother, Travis, had named those chocoalte chocolate chip cookies 'cow pies' because they looked very similar to the _contributions _left by the cattle on their ranch._

_We all started laughing and carrying on; except Charles, of course. And even he smiled. The puns got even worse after that. For the rest of the night, until she had to go on 11pm duty, anytime we reached into the cookie tin or made eye contact with one another, we'd dissolve into laughter. I really enjoyed that evening! That was probably one of the best times we've had over here. It was also one of the best jokes I've ever had played on me. _

_When Sarabeth first arrived, I expected us to become much better acquainted...if you get my drift. Instead, to my initial disappointment---and now to my delight---we've become good friends. I enjoy being with her. _

_Recently, she has taken to wearing a different colored ribbon or bow in her hair every day. I know I'm not the only one who anticipates seeing her smiling face and her colorful ribbons fluttering in the breeze each morning._

_Our plans for the costume party at Halloween are coming along fine. But, planning this party has made me think of all the fun we had in the fall. I miss you, and Crabapple Cove, this time of year. Who am I kidding? I miss home every day---every minute---of the year._

_I still need to think of something to cheer up B J. It has to be very special. Having him, and Sarabeth, here has helped to make it bearable for me. _

_They just called us to triage, Dad. I'll try to write more later._

_Love always---your son,_

_Hawkeye_


	31. 31

THIRTY ONE

* * *

AN: Thanks to Jas & Jenos for your comments. Please keep reading & reviewing. Hope y'all enjoy this installment.

* * *

Oct. 20th: 0530 hours 

"…But, Major Houlihan," Lieutenant MacAllister protested, "I was scheduled to have the afternoon off. I've already made plans!"

"This is the Army, Lieutenant! Personal plans do not exist. We do what we are ordered to do," the blonde officer replied. "You can follow orders, can't you?"

"Yes, ma'am, I can," the red-haired nurse answered stiffly. She was struggling to keep her temper reined in.

"Then, report for duty at 1100 hours, as usual. Dismissed. I have to get packedfor Tokyo." Sitting at her desk, the older woman shuffled papers & returned to her reading.

When MacAllister hesitated, Houlihan looked up, "I said, you are dismissed!"

"Yes, Major." Still angry, the younger woman left the other nurse's tent.

* * *

"No can do, Lieutenant. I can't get through," the company clerk explained to the woman pacing in his office. "I'll try again, in a few minutes." 

"Keeping trying, Corporal," she directed. 'There's no sense in him making the trip out here if I can't spend any time with him."

"I'll find a way to contact him," Klinger promised, "and I'm sorry that your plans were changed."

"Me, too." Peering into Colonel Potter's office, MacAllister noted, "Good, he's not in there. Klinger, cover you ears," she advised as she headed towards the door.

"Cover my…?" The man started to ask. The slamming of the door and an explosive torrent of words in an unfamiliar language was all the explanation he needed. Shaking his head sadly, the clerk tried again to reach Lieutenant Cochlan's outfit.

* * *

Heading towards the mess tent, Major Winchester heard the slamming door and the spate of angry words that followed. He recognized the voice but not the dialect. Turning, he saw Lieutenant MacAllister storming towards her quarters. 

"Lieutenant," he called to her, "is everything all right?"

She paused, "Fine and dandy, sir." Her response was polite. He could see the anger in her stance, however. She resumed walking.

He caught up with the woman and tried another tactic, "What language were you speaking?" he asked curiously.

"Spanish. Do you understand it?"

"No."

"Good," she replied. "Because what I was saying shouldn't have been said in polite company." MacAllister added, in a soft, tightly control voice. "Sir, right now, I'm so mad at Major Houlihan that I could chew nails and spit out horseshoes!"

"An interesting analogy," Winchester remarked. "But what, pray tell, has provoked this language lesson?" At the Texan's hesitation, he said, with sincerity, "Sarabeth, when you first arrived, I told you that...if you felt the need to talk...I would be willing to listen. I meant that. I still do."

She nodded. "Thank you." Looking around, she gestured to her tent. "Let's go inside the ranch house. "People know if you sneeze twice around here, so I don't reckon I can say the things I want to say out here."

* * *

Once inside her quarters, she said, "I'm not intending this to be a complaint between nurse and doctor or from Lieutenant to Major. It's just ranting between friends." 

"Understood," the man nodded.

"Now," she began, "I understand why Houlihan is on my back like a duck on a June bug in the operating room. She likes her nurses meek and mild. I don't fit into that mold. I try hard to keep my mouth shut...I don't often succeed," the Texan added ruefully. "I don't like it; but, I do understand that part."

"But, it is outside the OR where she really aggravates me! My hair ribbons are a good example. She says they have to go: that they aren't military. I know that. But they make me feel better. The rest of my uniform follows the military dress regulations: every button is buttoned; my insignia is set at exactly the right angle on my collar; the one boot I can wear is always shined. Why isn't that good enough for her?"

"My ranch house is another example. I came in, as a new nurse, and I have my own tent. At the same time, there are nurses who have been here for over a year, and they're still four to a tent. I asked the major if one of them could move in with me. That would give her, and the other nurses in that tent, more room. But Houlihan refused, saying that my tent was designated for the second-in-command nurse only."

Sarabeth continued before Winchester had a chance to reply. "And speaking of second-in-command...my three week grace period is nearly up. My ankle isn't healing like I want it to. I'm not getting enough rest because of these double shifts. But even that would all right, if I were actually being trained for the position as I am supposed to be. Instead, I'm doing every inane thing that she can dream up...like counting how many rectal thermometers we have. Every time I finish one of the moronic tasks, she finds something else equally idiotic. Or else she has me redoing the first one again!"

"And today," she whirled to face the man who was listening to her, "today was the last straw! I was supposed to have my second shift off--butI would still be the on-call nurse--in case anything came in.. As soon as she posted that schedule, I contacted Mitch. He managed to get five hour leave and was coming today. We were going to Hawkeye's "Sock Hop and Swap" this evening. I was really looking forward to spending some time with him."

"This morning, Houlihan tells me that my schedule has changed. I'm back on duty and I can forget any personal plans that I've made. And to make it even more irritating, I_ know_ that Parnelli was the snake in the grass who informed her he was coming."

MacAllister sighed unhappily. "This isn't really working. You know what I do when I'm this mad and frustrated back home?"

"Go out and _punch_ cows?" Winchester inquired with a grin.

Grinning in return, the woman said, "That would sure be a _cow_-rageous thing to do! No, what I do is: saddle up and ride out to one of the back pastures, pick up a handful of rocks and start throwing them as hard as I can at a target. I keep chunking them until I can't raise my arm anymore or I'm over being mad."

He questioned, "Just curious, do you throw stones at people?"

"Nope: I just pitch rocks at trees and fence posts and ant hills. Although," she added truthfully, "I have chunked a few rocks at Fannin. But he deserved it!

"No doubt," Major Winchester agreed. "Well, then, let's go."

"Go where?"

"Sarabeth, Korea has a multitude of rocks waiting to be 'chunked'."

She thought about his suggestion. Her smile grew larger and her eyes began to sparkle again. "You are so right!"


	32. 32

THIRTY TWO

* * *

"That scrawny tree over there will be perfect," Sarabeth MacAllister decided. She gathered a handful of pebbles and looked at Charles Winchester. They were on the leeward side of the generator shed at the edge of camp. He was leaning against the wall as he studied her actions.

"I've never had a human audience before," self-consciously, she admitted.

"Do you want me to leave?"

"Nope. Just stand clear." She grinned, "I'd rather not have to fill out an accident report."

Taking a deep breath, and selecting one small stone, the young woman announced, "I am mad at Margaret Houlihan!" She threw the rock at the designated target.

It landed with a solid thud.

"I have been known to give extra scut work to a troublesome nurse. But I didn't constantly treat her like a first semester student nurse. And I eased up on her after a while. But not Margaret Houlihan! No, sir!"

Another rock hit the tree.

"She doesn't like the suggestions I make."

"I'm also mad because she won't let me laugh or tell jokes."

"I'm angry because she won't do anything about Parnelli. And, she won't let me do anything about her, either."

"And I'm angry that I have to wait until she gets back from her seven day conference in Tokyo before I find out if I really have to pack up and go."

Each statement was accompanied by a flying stone.

With another deep breath, MacAllister picked another pebble to throw. "The next person I'm mad at is Hawkeye Pierce."

Winchester asked, "Is this a private stoning? Or may anyone join in?"

The Texan grinned, "It's open to the public." She poured some of her collection into the palm of his hand.

"I'm mad at Hawkeye because he acts like he is the only person who cares about the patients," Sarabeth announced.

Two rocks hit the target.

* * *

With a pause to collect more rocks, she began again, "I'm very angry at whoever started this war!"

Winchester's throw was harder than her own.

"And I am very angry at whoever won't _stop_ this war!"

Two rocks were thrown simultaneously.

"That requires another one," the surgeon announced.

"You're right."

Their stones were thrown together, again.

"And I'm mad at whoever can give these kids enough bullets to maim and kill each other but can't give us enough blood and bandages to patch them back together!" They each slung their rock with a vengeance and then tossed a second one, as well. Looking at each other, the doctor and the nurse nodded in agreement and a third set of stones pelted their target.

Sarabeth counted the remaining stones in her hand. "I am still mad at Margaret Houlihan!" She flung all the rocks as hard as she could and dusted her hands. She smiled at Major Winchester. "OK. I reckon I'm through chunking rocks at defenseless trees."

"My turn." Winchester picked some rocks off the ground. He presented some to the woman. "Does this have to be war-related?"

She shook her head. "Whatever, or whoever, is upsetting you."

"Very well." Taking a deep breath, the major proclaimed, "I am angry at the man who asked my sister to marry him, and then changed his mind, hurting her so deeply."

His rock struck the tree with a sharp sound.

"And I am mad at myself for acting so boorish and narrow-minded when I criticized her choice. I regret the things I wrote to her."

Another missile was thrown.

"I am also angry at the Board of Directors at Boston General for removing me from consideration for the Chief of Thoracic Surgery."

"Did they give a reason?" Sarabeth asked.

"Because I am _stuck_ over here and they needed someone now!" heatedly, he answered and pitched another stone.

"Idiots!" she replied with a rock of her own.

"I am angry with Pierce for the reason stated previously. And because he constantly tries to humiliate me."

"I'm aggravated with Hunnicutt for his childish behavior."

"I am angry with Margaret for pushing her nurses too hard."

"I am appalled by Father Mulcahy's continual massacre of the piano in the Officer's Club."

The pile of stones was growing smaller.

Winchester resumed his pronouncements, "I'm dismayed at the terrible food that is served to us."

I dislike having a domicile that is made of the same material as my pants!"

"I abhor the lack of privacy."

"And the mail service is deplorable."

"I am the angriest, however, because I can not play my music whenever I want! I _need_ my classical music to preserve what little sanity I have left. But I can't listen to it without those cretins complaining!"

Winchester threw the remaining rocks at the tree.

"You're always welcome at the MacAllister Ranch...you and your music, Charles," Sarabeth informed him.

"Thank you, my dear. Are you ready to return to camp? Or shall we continue?"

"I reckon I'm over my snit." MacAllister replied. "And, I need to get some sleep. I have to go on duty in a few hours, you know."

* * *

Outside her tent, Sarabeth smiled at the man who accompanied her. "Thank you, Charles, for putting up with me while I _pitched_ a fit."

"Just remember," he told her, "I'm only a _stone's throw_ away."


	33. 33

THIRTY THREE

* * *

Oct. 20th: 1830 hours

"Major Winchester!" the Lebanese corporal shook the surgeon's shoulder, "Wake up, sir!"

Winchester moved the pillow over his head. "Go away," he moaned.

"Sorry, sir. Lieutenant MacAllister needs you in pre-op."

"Do we have wounded?" Now alert, the doctor reached for his robe.

"Yes, sir. There's been a fight at Rosie' during the sock swap. Captains Pierce and Hunnicutt are hurt."

"Leave it to those two to ruin the first good night's sleep I've had in a long time." Winchester complained as he pulled on his boots. He didn't bother to lace them. "How seriously are they injured?"

* * *

"Howdy, sir," the nurse on duty greeted him. "I'm sorry to have to wake you, but I needed a sober doctor." She grinned and then said, "Main injuries: Pierce's scalp laceration; Hunnicutt's metacarpal dislocation. Minor cuts and abrasions on both."

"Charles, look what we brought you!" Hawkeye spoke. He fumbled with the pocket of his bathrobe. "See!" He waved a lacy brassiere. "It's a sling shot! Do you like it? We traded one of your silk ascots for it."

"You traded...!" Winchester swallowed his anger. "All right, you've had your fun. Now, be a good little boy and let the doctor look at you." With his penlight, he examined the man's eyes for pupil reaction. "Let's get him into the OR. Set up a suture tray and a local," the surgeon instructed.

"I don't need a local," Pierce slurred his words, "I'm already feeling no pain." He swayed, leaning towards the edge of the table. Sarabeth quickly pulled him upright again.

"That's for sure and for certain," MacAllister recoiled as he breathed on her.

Moving to his next patient, the major reached for his tent mate's swollen hand. "Klinger, get an x-ray---just in case. In a wheel chair," he added as Hunnicutt tried, unsteadily, to stand. "We don't need him breaking anything else. Also, contact HQ and see if we're expecting any real casualties anytime soon. Then, go over to Rosie's establishment and see if there are any additional pugilists who require treatment," Winchester ordered.

* * *

When the company clerk returned, he was supporting a bleeding soldier. "HQ says no wounded, sir," he reported as MacAllister helped him with the patient. "But there are about ten more people with injuries over at Rosie's."

"Wake the colonel and announce to the camp that all semi-sober medical personnel are to report for duty, immediately," the doctor didn't look up from his suturing.

"Looks like a busy night," the nurse commented from her table.

"Is this better than counting thermometers?" Winchester asked.

"It's more challenging, anyway, sir," MacAllister answered with a laugh.


	34. 34

THIRTY FOUR

* * *

Oct. 22nd: 0630 hours

"Howdy, gentlemen," Lieutenant MacAllister acknowledged the four surgeons seated at the mess table.

"Good morning, Sarabeth. Care to join us for breakfast? You'll be the best part of it." Captain Pierce told her.

"Not today, sir. Thank you, though. By the way, did y'all hear about the partnership between the dentist and the carpenter?"

"No," Pierce replied with a grin. "What happened?"

"It didn't work out. They kept fighting _tooth and nail._"

Enjoying the reactions of the men, MacAllister turned to the nurses waiting at another table. She removed the clipboard from under her arm and walked over to them.

"Good morning, ladies," she greeted them cheerfully. "It's time to increase your indigestion by posting today's assignments." A collective groan sounded. She grinned at them. "Just think, Hercules had only twelve impossible tasks to perform."

"So where is he now that we need him?" Liza Campbell asked and the women laughed.

"Here I am, ladies." Flexing his muscles, Hawkeye called to them, "See?"

The women responded with catcalls.

"Now, now," MacAllister admonished. "Let's leave him with his delusions intact. Captain Pierce," she spoke to him with laughter in her voice, "unless you want to scrub floors with us, you should keep those impressive biceps to yourself."

"I think she's telling you to_ clean up_ your act, Hawk." B J Hunnicutt quipped. He was absent-mindedly scratching under the edge of his bandage.

"Maybe you are being too _abrasive_." Colonel Potter suggested with a smile.

"Some people just don't appreciate _sparkling_ talent." Hawkeye announced as he headed for the coffee urn.

"Perhaps, that is because we have yet to see any." Major Winchester remarked.

"Now that we've all come _clean_," MacAllister said, "the nurses can get started on the important things." She became more businesslike. "Baker, you and Thompson have done an excellent job reorganizing the medical storeroom. Finish that today and add the new supplies we received yesterday."

The two women nodded. "Right, Lieutenant."

Sarabeth checked her list. "Riggs, how's that drug index coming?"

"It's taking a long time. With the cross listing by name, symptoms and ingredients---and now with the new ones to add to it---I'll get it done---but it may take all day."

The nurse in charge agreed, "Pull Smith from the manual updates if you need some help."

"Kellye, Campbell---y'all can start on the pre-op reorganization. The rest of us have the OR break down. And whoever finishes early, report to the OR. We'll still have plenty to do." Smiling at them, MacAllister placed the pencil behind her ear. "That's it. Keep up the good work. We'll start at 0700 hours."

"Count me out," Lieutenant Parnelli announced. "I've got better things to do than do scut work for you today."

"Excuse me, Parnelli," Lieutenant MacAllister's drawl was icy. "I don't reckon I heard you correctly."

The people in the mess tent were suddenly very quiet.

"You heard me!" Rebelliously, Monica Parnelli stood to face the red-haired nurse. "You don't rank me! You have no authority over me! Everyone knows Houlihan is just waiting to kick you out. I am not going to do it!"

"Very well," MacAllister answered calmly. She reached for her pencil and scratched the nurse's name off her list. "Finish your breakfast, ladies. We start at 0700 hours."

"You see?" Parnelli told the other women. "She can't make you do any of this."

The nurses shifted their positions uneasily.

"By the way, Lieutenant Parnelli, I have something to read to you," the nurse lifted the sheets of paper over the top of her clipboard and read from the last page:

_To: Lieutenant MacAllister_

_From: Major Houlihan_

_Oct. 20, 1952_

_1300 hours_

_You, and the rest of my nursing staff, are hereby ordered to complete the__work---detailed in the previous pages---before I return on Oct. 26th. All nurses are expected to work any shift and any assignment that is given to them. Should any nurse decide not to cooperate, she is hereby assigned to latrine health detail. She is to take samples from each and every latrine hole in this compound. I want tests run, on every sample, for hepatitis, typhoid and heavy concentrations of E. coli_.

_These are my orders, Lieutenant. I expect you to carry them out._

_Signed, Major Margaret Houlihan_

MacAllister dropped the pages back onto the clipboard and returned the pencil to its original position. "Any questions?" she asked in a dangerously silken tone.

"Lieutenant, may I see Major Houlihan's orders?" Colonel Potter asked.

"Certainly, sir," she handed him the clipboard and stood at attention.

Her commanding officer thumbed through the pages, glanced briefly at the last page, nodded and gave the clipboard back to MacAllister.

"Under the circumstances, Lieutenant, I have to amend the major's orders," the colonel remarked.

"Yes, sir," expressionless, she waited for his comments.

Parnelli began to smile.

Potter addressed the nurse. "Lieutenant Parnelli, in addition to the three tests mentioned, you are to run tests for cholera, as well. And I want the written report on my desk by the end of the day."

Parnelli's smile faded. "But, sir..." she began.

"By the end of the day, Lieutenant. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir." she answered gloomily.

* * *

After the nurses left the tent, the doctors lingered at their table.

"Colonel," B J Hunnicutt spoke in low tones, "that was an interesting note that Major Houlihan wrote."

"She didn't write it," Potter responded quietly. "The last page was blank."

"What!" Hawkeye Pierce exclaimed. At his commanding officer's stern look, he lowered his voice and leaned forward. "She was bluffing? No wonder she's such a good poker player!"

* * *

Oct. 22nd: 0730 hours

The company clerk was typing one of his many daily reports when Lieutenant MacAllister walked into his office. "Howdy, Corporal."

"Good morning, Lieutenant." Klinger smiled at her. "What can I do for you?"

"Would you ask the colonel if he has time to talk to me for a few minutes?"

"Right away."

"You wanted to speak to me?" Colonel Potter asked the young woman as she approached his desk.

"Yes, sir. I wanted to say...thank you."

Potter nodded, "Anything else?"

"No, sir. Not unless you want an explanation for...anything?"

"No explanations are needed, Lieutenant. Dismissed!"

"Yes, sir!"

* * *

After MacAllister left, the officer chuckled. The lieutenant had handled the situation well. And running fecal samples was the perfect punishment for Parnelli. She was, indeed, a pain in the derriere. He couldn't have thought of anything better, himself. 


	35. 35

THIRTY FIVE

* * *

Oct. 23rd: 0530 hours

Carrying a heavy tray, Lieutenant MacAllister had to use the toe of her boot to wedge open the tent door. Quietly, she slipped into the darkened Swamp. She looked at the three sleeping forms with affection. Setting her burden on the table, the woman turned on the light in the far corner of the tent.

B J Hunnicutt stirred. "What is it? More casualties?" he asked, sleepily blinking up at her.

"No, sir. But I need to talk to y'all."

"Can't it wait until later?" he groaned.

"No, sir," she answered softly.

"Is that fresh bread I smell?" Major Winchester swung his legs over the edge of the bed and reached for his robe.

"You do. The cook just took these rolls out of the oven."

"Our cook?" Hawkeye Pierce yawned as he rubbed his eyes. "He's never served rolls that smelled that good before."

"That's because no one's ever paid him to make a batch before," Sarabeth answered while she poured the coffee. "Y'all come and get them while they're hot. There's butter and jelly over here, too."

"Delicious!" Hawkeye commented as he buttered another roll. "What's the occasion?"

"This is an apology for having to wake y'all this early in the morning," MacAllister replied in a subdued manner.

"What's wrong, Sarabeth?" Winchester asked in concern.

With an unhappy sigh, the woman took a folded paper out of her pocket, squared her shoulders and stood at attention before the officers. She opened the note and read to them:

_On the morning of Oct. 23, 1952, Lieutenant S. MacAllister is hereby ordered to present herself before the Chief Surgeon, Dr. B. F. Pierce, the ranking surgeon, Dr. _

_C. E. Winchester, and her attending physician, Dr. B J Hunnicutt._

_These doctors are hereby requested to thoroughly examine and objectively evaluate Lieutenant MacAllister's damaged ankle for certification of fitness for duty._

_According to the Army Nurses Field Manual: section IV, subparagraphs C-F, pages 23-24, the recommendation of this tribunal must be based solely on the ability of said nurse to reliably perform all duties required of nurses assigned to a MASH unit._

_I request that the results of this examination be available for review by Oct. 26th, 1952._

_Signed, Major M. Houlihan_

MacAllister handed the note to Captain Pierce. "Nice. I like being a part of a firing squad during breakfast," he muttered.

"The reason I had to wake y'all so early is because I have to go over today'swork assignments at 0630 hours. And I have to begin working on those jobs at 0700 hours. I was hoping we could get this over with before then."

Regretfully, the Chief Surgeon agreed. "Meet us at the x-ray lab in 15 minutes."

"Yes, sir. There are two things I want understood: (1) This breakfast should not be interpreted as a bribe. It is merely intended as an apology. (2) If y'all are less than truthful on that report, I will be extremely disappointed in each of you." Macallister gave them a sad smile and left the tent.

"She knows the results of that evaluation as well as we do," the major commented. "There must be some way we can keep her here---despite that ankle."

"I'm open to suggestions," Pierce noted.

* * *

Oct. 23rd: 0630 hours

Inside the mess tent, Lieutenant Kellye was the first one to notice that the Texan was no longer wearing her cast. "Hey! You have a matched set again. Congratulations!"

MacAllister smiled. "Thanks. I reckon y'all can call me a _cast-away_, now."

Lieutenant Sherry Riggs asked, "What's the verdict?"

She shrugged. "The jury's still out. But y'all know doctors. If it's a report that we have to do, it should have been done yesterday. And if it's a report that they have to do, they may start thinking about it in three weeks."

The other women laughed in agreement.

"Speaking of doctors," Sarabeth switched subjects, "do y'all know why they test the reflexes in the knees? Because they get their _kicks _out of it."

The nurses groaned at her joke. The woman laughed and reached for her clipboard. "And now for the good stuff. Kellye, Campbell and Hernandez, I want y'all to finish the pre-op reorganization. Parnelli, repeat your assignment from yesterday. The rest of us will finish the OR break down. I want that completed this morning."

"Um, Lieutenant," Parnelli spoke, hesitantly, "I'd like to help with the OR cleanup."

MacAllister arched an eyebrow at the other woman. "I was under the impression that you did not want to be included in my work crews," she answered in a soft tone.

"I've changed my mind."

"Very well. The more the merrier, I guess. We'll get started at 0700 hours."


	36. 36

AN: Thanks to Jas, Jenos & Firebirdgirl for your comments. I think these chapterswill answer some of the questions. Some of them may still be unanswered; but that's what sequels are for. :>)

* * *

THIRTY SIX

* * *

Oct. 23rd: 0900 hours 

"Lieutenant, the colonel wants to see you right away," the company clerk reported to the nurse who was busily scouring the walls of the operating room.

"OK, Corporal. Thanks." Lieutenant MacAllister carefully climbed down from the step ladder. She set her bucket and scrub brush on the floor and removed her surgical apron.

* * *

Smoothing her hair back into its braid, the Texan knocked at the commander's door and entered with his permission. "You wanted to see me, sir?" she questioned. Noticing another officer present, she came to attention. 

Colonel Potter made the introductions. "Colonel Blankenship, this is Lieutenant MacAllister, the acting-head nurse while Major Houlihan is attending the Tokyo conference. Lieutenant, this is Colonel Blankenship, a member of the Army Medical Supervisory Board. The colonel is here for a surprise inspection of the nursing staff." Potter explained. He was watching for MacAllister's reaction.

The redheaded nurse smiled at the older woman, "A surprise inspection; why that's just fine and dandy."

Potter, having been around her long enough to recognize the irony in her voice, smiled to himself.

"Where would you like to start, ma'am?" the lieutenant asked with formal courtesy, "Pre-op, post-op or the medical supply room?"

"Actually, Lieutenant, I want to start with the nurse's quarters," Blankenship informed her. "Have all of your nurses assemble for inspection, immediately."

MacAllister frowned slightly, "Ma'am, right now, my nurses are involved in OR break down. I can provide a representative from each tent to stand for inspection, but I can not send all of the nurses to assembly."

"Perhaps you didn't understand me, Lieutenant," the female senior officer spoke in a cold tone. "That was an order."

"With all due respect, ma'am," the MASH nurse replied levelly, "I simply can not spare more than two nurses. Once the operating room clean up is completed, I will have a full staff review for you. In the meantime, the representatives and I will inform the others of everything you inspect."

"Colonel Blankenship," Potter intervened, "around here, OR preparation must have top priority."

"Very well," she replied. "This will be mentioned in my report, however."

"If y'all will excuse me, I'll send for the tent representatives," MacAllister nodded to both colonels and left the office.

* * *

"This is ridiculous! Why should we have to clean this high up the walls?" Lieutenant Parnelli complained to the woman who was working beside her. "This has to be MacAllister's idea." 

"Actually, this is nothing new," Nurse Linda Hernandez explained, "You weren't here for the last complete OR breakdown, Monica. We did the same thing for Major Houlihan."

"I still don't think it's necessary!" the other woman exclaimed.

"I do have other assignments you can work on, Lieutenant Parnelli," came a soft drawl behind them. The two nurses turned around to see the acting-head nurse watching them. "Would you like a different one?" the Texan asked with a lift of an eyebrow.

"No. I guess I'd rather do this one." Parnelli conceded.

"All right, then. Keep scrubbing, "MacAllister directed. "Hernandez, clean up and report to Klinger's office. We have an inspection to attend."

* * *

"This is the living quarters for Lieutenants Campbell, Smith, Tanakhamara and Thompson," Sarabeth MacAllister, with clipboard and pen in hand, announced. She and Lieutenants Kellye and Hernandez followed the colonel into the tent. 

The older woman looked around in contempt. "This is no better than a pigsty! Beds are unmade. Personal belongings are on display. I want these women written up."

The Texan nodded and made notations on her paper. "Would you care to visit the post-op, now, Colonel? Of all the MASH units, we have the highest survival rate percentage. Part of that record is due to our recovery facilities."

"I want to see the next tent, Lieutenant."

"Yes, ma'am. Right this way," MacAllister, with her mild Texas accent, replied.

The other two nurses rolled their eyes at each other behind the visiting officer's back.

* * *

"...That picture is disgraceful!" Blankenship was scandalized. "He's not wearing anything except his dog tags and his helmet!" 

"At least he's holding his helmet in a strategic place," Lieutenant MacAllister commented. The corner of her mouth was beginning to quiver.

"I want that picture taken down and destroyed immediately!"

Lieutenant Hernandez protested, "That's Baker's husband, ma'am. We can't destroy it!"

"Then turn it over," Blankenship ordered.

Hernandez started to speak but MacAllister interrupted her, "You heard the colonel." She was attempting to keep her face expressionless. "Turn the picture over and show Colonel Blankenship what's on the other side."

The woman did as she was instructed.

The colonel left the tent quickly.

In the picture on the other side, Baker's Marine husband was not wearing his helmet.

* * *

Oct. 23rd: 1300 hours 

Sarabeth was sitting in her quarters. At her table, with her feet resting on a stool, she was reading the schedule Colonel Blankenship had given her. "Definitely a few fish shy of a stringer," she muttered to herself in dismay. Hearing a man's footsteps approaching her tent, she looked up to see B J Hunnicutt peering through her door screen.

"You have your '_do not disturb_' sign out on your door, Sarabeth, but may I come in anyway?"

"Sure, B J. You're always welcome at the MacAllister Ranch. Come on in." The woman set aside her work and gestured for him to have a seat.

"Charles asked me to deliver these to you." The doctor gave her a handful of small rocks. "He said that you would want them."

Sarabeth laughed and placed the stones on her table. "He is so right!"

B J asked, curiously, "What's the joke?"

"Charles knows that I like to chunk rocks whenever I get mad," she answered with a grin. "For some reason, he must feel that I've gotten angry this morning."

"I wonder why he would think that?" he grinned back at her.

"I haven't the foggiest," the woman shrugged. "It sure couldn't have anything to do with being lambasted for having a Texas flag hanging in my quarters." MacAllister replied with humor.

"Or, with having to stand at parade attention while the entire nursing staff was being soundly chastised?" Hunnicutt added with more seriousness.

"That's why my nurses have the afternoon off. Between me working their tails off; and Colonel Blankenship chewing their tails off; they needed a break."

"They needed one...what about you?" B J asked as he looked at the folder on her table.

She shook her head. "The colonel gave me a schedule that she wants me to implement. It's a wonderful one: surgical nurses working only in the OR, triage nurses working triage only, post-op working only in post-op, etc. The only problem is...I don't have the 20 to 25 nurses that it would take to make it work. I suspect, however, you aren't here to listen to me complain about colonels. What can I do for you, sir?"

"Sarabeth, I want to talk to you about your ankle," At MacAllister's downcast look, Hunnicutt nodded in agreement. "I can't certify you as 100 fit for duty."

"Please don't look so sad, sir. I'm the one who has had to walk on this ankle. I was hoping, but I knew it wasn't going to be ready in three weeks."

"The tribunal's recommendation is that you be allowed to stay here...despite that ankle. The consensus is that you are too good a surgical nurse to be shipped out. We need you...the wounded need you."

"I want to stay here, sir. I don't reckon I have much say in the matter."

"We haven't given up the fight, yet. Sarabeth, you deserve a break. Come over to the Officer's Club with me, Hawkeye and Charles. We'll buy you a drink," the man with the sandy-colored mustache offered, "And the only _rocks _will be in the Scotch."

"Oh, I'm sorely tempted," she answered with a laugh. "I can't, however.

The colonel wants to go over this innovative schedule of hers at 1400 hours. And I…"

At that moment, a corpsman came running to the nurse's tent and knocked hurriedly. "Lieutenant MacAllister! HQ just called. We got wounded coming! It's a lot of them, too!" Goldman announced before he continued to the next tent.

The nurse shook her head and signed, "Sounds like it's going be a long session."

Captain Hunnicutt pulled himself out of his chair, "I wish just once they would run out of bullets before they ran out of bodies." He helped the woman to stand.

"I wanted to get out of the meeting with Colonel Blankenship, but not this way." The lieutenant sighed, again.

* * *

"...Since we're expecting heavy casualties soon, some adjustments to the posted schedules are required," Lieutenant MacAllister was briefing the camp personnel. Triage, pre-op and surgical nurse assignments will be the same. The changes will deal with the staffing of post-op wards..."

* * *

"...All personnel who are on stand-by reassignment, keep track of how many patients are leaving the OR. As soon as I have to open a new ward, I want everyone ready to switch." 

"Any questions on assignments?" the lieutenant paused and looked at the members of the medical outfit assembled in the mess tent. "Sounds like we're going to be playing musical scalpels, doesn't it? This is going to be rough on everyone. However," she smiled at them in encouragement, "one of the reasons this MASH unit has a 98 survival rate is because y'all have always pulled together and worked as a team when the patients need you. I'm proud to be a part of the 4077th. And I'm very proud of y'all!" She told them with honest sincerity.

"That's all that I have for y'all as a group. Corporal Klinger has some additional assignments for the gentlemen. Ladies, I have some assignments for us, as well." Sarabeth gave them a sad lopsided grin, "So much for our afternoon off."


	37. 37

THIRTY SEVEN

* * *

"...Lieutenant, I don't understand why you're so opposed to this schedule. It is an excellent one!" Colonel Blankenship stated.

"You're right, Colonel. It is a good schedule: if I were in a large hospital with a full complement of nurses. But it will not work in a MASH unit," Lieutenant MacAllister explained while she carried a stack of surgical gowns into the changing area. The Medical Supervisory nurse followed her.

"You are stepping very close to insubordination, Lieutenant."

"I apologize, ma'am. I try _not_ to step in any thing." Sarabeth set the gowns on the shelf. She faced the older woman. "Here at the 4077th, we just don't have enough personnel for everyone to have only one assignment. When the ambulances and choppers arrive, everyone has to pitch in and perform different functions."

"I'm positive it will work at this MASH. And I want it implemented, today."

"Ma'am, even if I were convinced that your system would work here, I would not implement it---not right now. Not when I have an overwhelming number of injured men coming in an hour or so. As my grandpaw says: '_If it ain't broke, don't fix it'._ And this MASH ain't broke."

"I can have you court-martialed for this," the colonel warned.

"Yes, ma'am, you can," MacAllister agreed. "But I have to put the care of the wounded above any other consideration. Watch us in action, Colonel. If, after this OR session is over, you still feel that your system is the best choice for this outfit; I will initiate your schedule, immediately. And, I will personally bring the court-martial papers for you to sign."

"You can bet I'll be watching you, Lieutenant."

* * *

When the vehicles carrying the injured soldiers began arriving at the medical unit, Colonel Blankenship watched as the camp personnel turned out for triage. She watched as some of them headed for the helicopter landing pads and some of them worked with the men being unloaded in the compound.

She watched as surgeons, deciding certain patients couldn't wait for the assessment of the others, headed for the scrub room. She saw their surgical teams follow them into the hospital. And she saw how others took over the triage duties.

The colonel watched as nurses and corpsmen prepared the patients for surgery.

Inside the operating room, she noticed that the anesthetists became ward nurses as additional post-ops were opened. Medics quickly took their places. Surgical nurses stood in for surgeons when too many cases were critical. Assistant cooks became instrument handlers. The camp priest, the company clerk and the rest of the enlisted men became litter carriers. Even the colonel from the Army Medical Supervisory Board was asked to take the job of rover.

* * *

She watched as the OR session lasted for nearly 38 hours without stopping. And, through it all, Blankenship observed how the people worked together to do what had to be done. 


	38. 38

THIRTY EIGHT

* * *

Oct. 25th: 0300 hours

Alone in the operating room, two woman sat in exhausted silence. Colonel Blankenship, sitting on a stool, was slumped across a table. Lieutenant MacAllister, sitting on a bench, was adjusting an ice pack on her ankle. They looked up as the company clerk entered the OR. He was carrying a tray from the mess tent.

"Here's a couple of bologna sandwiches, ladies. There's no other food left. I brought you some cold water. Sorry, there's no juice left, either."

"There's no_ juice_ left in me, either, Corporal," the surgical nurse answered with a tired grin and a yawn.

"The mess sergeant wanted to know if he could shut down the kitchen since the rush is over. I told him he could go back on regular schedule," Klinger reported.

MacAllister nodded.

Corporal Klinger turned to the older woman. "Colonel, would you care for something to eat?" She straightened and accepted the plate from him.

The man poured MacAllister some water. "Thanks." Sarabeth winced as she reached for her food.

"Do you need another ice pack for your ankle?"

"No. It's fine." She yawned again, "All right, Klinger. Let's finish camp business."

"Yes, ma'am," the clerk consulted his list. "I checked on the colonel. He was sound asleep in his tent. I removed his boots and covered him with a blanket. The guards have been posted. Pre-op is ready. Lieutenant Kellye made certain it was cleaned and restocked before she went off duty."

"I stopped by all the post-ops. They have enough supplies. The ward nurses report no problems. And everyone knows their duty schedules. I'll put in a requisition for more supplies and call grave registration---in three hours---when the lines are clear."

"Is there anything else we need to take care of?"

"No, ma'am."

"All right. Hand me my crutches. Once you escort the colonel to the VIP tent, you can stand down."

"What about you, Lieutenant?" worried, the corporal asked.

"After I check on the surgeons and get the OR taken care of, I'm going to collapse on the nearest flat surface. Colonel Blankenship, I really appreciate your help. You made the OR procedures run smoother. Thank you."

"It seems to me, that you had the OR running smoothly, even without my contributions."

"That's because of Major Houlihan's preparations. You made it easier, however. And I'm grateful for that."

* * *

In the alcove beside the operating room, the doctors were sleeping on the cots provided for them. Standing beside Hawkeye Pierce's bed, maneuvering her crutches to bend over him, Sarabeth tenderly moved the hair out of his eyes.

"Don't dream about the blood, Hawk. Think about Maine and the lobster festival, instead." She spoke very softly. He mumbled something but remained asleep.

After covering him with a blanket, she turned to B J's cot. He had managed to remove one of his boots before falling victim to exhaustion. She finished the job he had begun and looked at him fondly. "B J, Peg loves you and needs you. And she always will."

"Tucking the children in for the night?" Major Winchester's fatigued voice startled her.

"It is way past your bedtime." MacAllister responded. "That shows you how tired I am: I didn't evenknow you were awake. And why aren't you asleep?"

"I was debating whether or not it was worth the effort to get up and find some water to drink," he said.

"I'll bring you some."

He shook his head. "It is not worth the effort for you to get it, either. How's your ankle?"

"I was debating which is better: an above the knee or a below the knee amputation."

The doctor moved to the edge of his cot. "Sit down before you fall down," he ordered.

I can't, sir. I still have the operating room to clean up. And if I stop moving, I won't be able to move again."

"Let some of the other nurses take care of that."

The Texan gave a shake of her head. "Most of my nurses are now pulling post-op duty; the rest are getting some sleep so they can relieve them in a few hours. And, I've got the corpsmen working the wards or preparing the laundry and the instrument sterilization. I'll take care of the OR."

Hearing the stubbornness in her voice, he accepted her decision. "Very well. One more thing," the man paused, "Would you tell me something?"

"I can tell you lots of things." MacAllister smiled and then matched his seriousness. "What do you want to know, sir?"

"What would you have said to me, if I had been asleep along with Pierce and Hunnicutt?"

To his surprise, she flushed and looked away. "No one was supposed to hear any of that. I was...I was saying good-bye."

"I realize that. I would like to know. Please."

She met his gaze. "I would have said that you are going to enjoy symphonies at the Emerson Concert Hall in Boston for many years to come."

"Thank you, my dear. That is indeed a great comfort to me. After you have completed your task, take some analgesics. And get some sleep!"

"As soon as I can, sir." MacAllister said.

* * *

When the acting-head nurse returned to the operating room, she discovered Corporal Klinger and Colonel Blankenship hard at work.

"Corporal, I told you to stand down."

"There's an old Lebanese saying, Lieutenant: _You don't get to sleep until you've cleaned your camel's stall._"

Sarabeth's smile spread across her face. It even touched her eyes. "Then let's get this stall mucked out, shall we?" She looked at the other woman. "Colonel, you don't have to work this detail."

"It's been a long time since I've had OR duty. I haven't forgotten how to disinfect tables, however."

"Thank you, ma'am. Thank y'all, both," was her tired reply.

* * *

"I'll walk you to your tent, Sarabeth."

"No need, Klinger. I'm headed for that fourth cot in the hallway. Doctor Hunnicutt and I have second post-op duty. Make sure I'm awake by 0730 hours, will you? You may have to use a bucket of water."

"I'll bring two." The corporal grinned at her, "Stand down, Lieutenant."

"Yes, sir!"

* * *

Oct. 25th: 1200 hours

"Thanks again, Colonel, for all your help during the OR session." Lieutenant MacAllister said. She walked the visiting officer to her jeep. "You really came through when we needed the extra hands."

"You will be notified of the results of my inspection, Lieutenant."

"Looking forward to it, ma'am. Have a safe trip."


	39. 39

THIRTY NINE

* * *

Oct. 26th: 2130 hours

"You can call off the search, Colonel. Major Houlihan has arrived," Father Mulcahy reported as he hurried into the company clerk's office. Colonel Potter and Corporal Klinger, on the phone line, were on the process of trying to locate their missing head nurse. They had been trying for several hours already. "They apparently had radiator trouble."

Relieved at the news, the men went outside to greet her. Major Houlihan was not in the best of moods. She was angry, cold, dusty and tired.

"Glad you finally made it back, Major," Colonel Potter said. "We were worried about you."

"Thank you, sir. But I would have been here sooner if this stupid sergeant had bothered to check the water in the radiator before we left Kimpo! We had to walk to a stream and carry water in our helmets. Then we had to go at a _snail's pace_ just to keep it from boiling over again. Men are so stupid!" she informed them.

She refused Klinger's help as she lifted her bags from the back of the jeep. "Out of my way, Corporal!"

"Yes, ma'am!" the man stepped back quickly.

Hearing the commotion, other people in the camp approached. Captains Pierce and Hunnicutt came over from the Swamp. Lieutenant MacAllister and Major Winchester walked out of her tent.

"Welcome back, Major," Sarabeth spoke to the other woman. "We were

worried about you."

"Yeah, Margaret. We thought you had run away with some pilot or something." Hawkeye told her.

"Get lost, Pierce," Major Houlihan responded.

"We thought you were, Margaret," B J quipped.

"_Men_!" The major was indignant. "Colonel, I'll have my report ready for you in the morning. MacAllister, I want to see you in my quarters in 30 minutes. Bring the surgical reports and duty logs with you," Houlihan ordered.

"I'm going to get cleaned up. And there had better not be any stupid men hanging around the showers, either!" Angrily, she stalked to her tent.

"The _smart_ ones better stay away, too." Pierce commented after the major had left the area.

"So much for the rest of our poetry reading session." Major Winchester uttered in complaint. The woman standing beside him grinned and shrugged.

She asked, "Charles, do you have a bottle of brandy that I may have? I'll replace it."

"Certainly. I thought you still had some Madetta brandy left, however."

"I do; but not enough. I have a feeling that Major Houlihan would like to get very drunk tonight."

"So you've appointed yourself the bartender for the evening?" he asked with amusement.

"Unless you want to volunteer for the job?" she teased.

"Not particularly. I am not a stupid man."

"That's probably a very _wise_ decision." Sarabeth smiled at him.

* * *

They entered the surgeon's tent. Taking the keys from his pocket, the major opened his footlocker. He handed her a decanter and two glasses. "Please encourage her to throw rocks and not my crystal snifters." Winchester instructed. 


	40. 40

FORTY

* * *

Oct. 26th: 2200 hours

When Corporal Klinger arrived at Major Houlihan's tent, he was carrying the items Lieutenant MacAllister had requested. He was also wearing his steel helmet and some old football shoulder pads. Sarabeth, with her arms full of folders, saw him and grinned. "Klinger, I don't reckon your precautions are that necessary."

"I'm not so sure, Lieutenant," he explained, "I've seen her this mad before. And Mrs. Klinger's only son doesn't intend to become a target."

"In that case, after you set those things down, I suggest you head for the hills." She knocked on the door. "Major Houlihan? It's Lieutenant MacAllister and Corporal Klinger."

"Come in."

They walked into the major's quarters. The company clerk placed his laden tray on the nearby table.

"What's he doing here?" Houlihan demanded.

Klinger backed away. "Leaving, ma'am," the corporal replied and quickly shut the door behind him.

MacAllister placed her burden on the bed. "I wasn't sure if you'd had a chance to eat, Major. So I had Klinger bring you something from the kitchen. It's vegetable soup. And it's actually edible for a change." She uncovered the bowl and arranged the silverware. "Would you rather have coffee or brandy?"

"Brandy." The major sat down at her table.

With careful motions, Sarabeth opened the bottle and poured the beverage into the two crystal glasses. "Major Winchester says you aren't supposed to just slosh the brandy into a glass. You're supposed to add a little bit at a time and gently swirl it around to allow it to 'breathe' and to accentuate the aroma."

"Just pour me a drink, Lieutenant." Houlihan ordered. "And sit down," she said with less anger in her voice.

As the Texan sipped her drink, she glanced at her reports on the cot and then at the open suitcase. A flash of colorful cloth caught her eye. "How pretty! May I look at that?"

Major Houlihan nodded her permission and tasted her soup. "This is good." She ate as the other woman sat down to examine the material.

"I love embroidery like this. Such tiny stitches! You almost need a magnifying glass to see them."

"I splurged on that. I felt like I deserved something pretty."

"You're right. Everybody needs to give themselves a treat now and then," MacAllister told her with a smile. "My grandma tried to teach me how to sew like this. But I was always more interested in riding horses and climbing trees. I still use some of the techniques she taught me when I'm suturing, however. I'd like to get something like this for my tent. It would sure brighten things up."

"I found this in that little shop next to the military airport. You know; the one with the green dragon on the sign."

"I didn't see that one."

"You couldn't have missed it," Houlihan said. "It's just outside the perimeter fence. Surely, on your stop-over from Japan to Kimhbede, you saw it."

"Actually...I...I never left the plane during that stop-over," Sarabeth told her.

"Why not? I know some parts of Tokyo aren't safe for a woman alone. But right around the base..." Major Houlihan tried to understand the other woman's hesitation.

"Kimhbede was supposed to be safe, too." MacAllister responded with a touch of sarcasm. "I wasn't concerned about security, however." Sarabeth stared into her glass. "You see, Major. Back in '43, my brother, Bowie, was tortured and then murdered by Japanese soldiers. And, I still have a **great** deal of hatred and hurt inside me because of that."

MacAllister looked at Houlihan across the table. "So, when I saw all those people outside the plane, I just..." She took a deep swallow from her glass. "I could not walk out there amongst my brother's killers. I realize that they may not, personally, have had anything to do with his death, but...I was afraid of what I might do," the woman shrugged. "Anyway, that's why I stayed on the plane."

"I'm sorry." Major Houlihan sympathized with her. "I didn't know."

"It's not necessarily something that I talk about a lot." Sarabeth looked at the embroidered picture again and settled back into her chair. "Look at this! There's even teeny-tiny fish in the ocean!"

"There are seven birds in that pine tree by the house, too."

"Seven?" the lieutenant was skeptical. "It's so little. There's one. Two. Three." Silently, she studied the piece again.

Presently, MacAllister asked, "Major, you wouldn't happen to want to talk about why you're mad at half the world's population, would you?"

"I'm not mad at all of them. Just one," Houlihan said. She emptied her glass.

"I see." Sarabeth returned to her bird counting. "I've found another one."

"Give me another shot of that rotgut."

The Texan glanced at the woman with amusement. She filled her glass again without comment, however.

"Charles Winchester would have a fit---if he had heard that, wouldn't he?" Houlihan noted.

"I was thinking the same thing." Sarabeth admitted with a smile.

The major stood and walked around her quarters. "Ever hear of a Lieutenant Colonel Donald Penobscott?"

"He's your husband, isn't he?"

"Soon to be ex-husband. That good-for-nothing weasel! One of the reasons I was looking forward to Tokyo was because we were going to get together and talk. He said we were going to work out our problems. But, when I got to Tokyo, he wasn't there. He left me a message. He was on temporary assignment in San Francisco. And that we'd talk later."

"This afternoon, I found out that he's been assigned there---permanently. At his request! The stupid jerk. He won't even tell me to my face that he's leaving me! I don't know why I expected this marriage to work. Look around you. All I have to offer anyone is bullets, bandages and blood," Houlihan stated sadly.

"Actually, I think you have a lot of offer someone. But this place is definitely not conducive to romance," MacAllister agreed.

"And this is not getting any work done," Houlihan spoke briskly. She cleared the table and placed her tray on the floor. "Let's look over those reports, Lieutenant."

"Yes, ma'am," Sarabeth picked up the folders from the edge of the bed. "I brought over everything. I didn't know if you wanted to look at all of these or not." She handed her a clipboard from the stack. "This is the list of all the things you wanted done. The sheet on top is everything we managed to complete."

MacAllister handed Houlihan the next folder, as well. "This is Parnelli's latrine health inspection report."

"I didn't assign anything like that."

"No, ma'am; but I did," the lieutenant replied evenly. She pulled the next folder. "These are the duty logs for the week. And these are the surgery records: cases, treatments, follow-ups in post-op, evac. schedules, etc."

"This one details the results of Colonel Blankenship's surprise inspection. Everything she saw, everything she said."

"So, Colonel Blankenship pulled a surprise inspection, did she?"

"It was sure a surprise to me," the Texan remarked. She looked at the next two folders and frowned. "Here is Doctor Hunnicutt's evaluation of my ankle. And this one is the tribunal's recommendations." She placed those folders on the table and glanced at the last one in her hand.

"And, this one…" MacAllister sighed, "This one is my request for a transfer. I'd rather leave voluntarily than be kicked out." The lieutenant carefully set that paper on top of the other ones.

"That's a lot of reading material," Major Houlihan responded. She walked over to her satchel and took a folder from a side pocket. "Here's some reading for you, as well." She handed it to the other nurse.

"What is it?" MacAllister asked.

"It's Colonel Blankenship's evaluation of the nurses in this camp before, during and after surgery. She made a special effort to find me in Tokyo---to make certain that I received it before I left. She is very meticulous in her inspections."

"She wasn't too thrilled with our living quarters."

"She was also unhappy with the fact that you, as head nurse, were scrubbing walls like a common orderly when she arrived. Nor was she very pleased when you refused to call a full review of the nurses until after OR clean up had been completed."

"She informed me of her dissatisfaction, Major," MacAllister replied.

"Read that report, Lieutenant. After you've finished, we'll discuss it some more."

"Yes, ma'am." Sarabeth opened the tin of cookies on the tray. She offered some to Major Houlihan and took one for herself. She turned to first page of the colonel's report. The head nurse selected a report from her stack, as well.

* * *

"Discounting the remarks about unmade beds and pictures of naked men, it's not a bad report, Major."

"No, it isn't. Colonel Blankenship was very impressed with your system for breaks. She said that, approximately every six hours, whenever a surgeon finished with a patient, you asked him if his team could take a break. And when that doctor returned to his table, you asked the next surgeon who completed his operation the same question. And you did that until all four teams were given a chance to rest."

"You did leave instructions that breaks should be taken at least once every eight hours, if possible. Because of the long OR session, I decided six hours was more appropriate."

"The colonel also liked the way you had the post-ops staffed. She said everyone knew what they were supposed to do. And duties were switched without any confusion," Houlihan added.

"Again, ma'am, your contingency plans were followed."

Houlihan shook her head, "I've checked the work schedules. The assignments are different."

Lieutenant MacAllister straightened in her chair. "Major, I was very careful to stay within your guidelines. The fact remains, however; I was the one in charge."

"And yet, every time the colonel tried to praise the way you were handling things, you insisted that it was all my doing."

"The established procedures were yours. I merely adapted them."

"Why didn't you take the credit for your work?" Major Houlihan asked in exasperation. "It was your organization of surgery she was watching...not mine! Don't you realize how important she is? She could easily have you reassigned as head surgical nurse at Tokyo General---with the rank to accompany it. She was _very_ impressed with you."

"Major, I don't want to be in charge at Tokyo General. All I want is to stay here."

"Why?"

The Texan considered her words before replying, "Because I like to think that I'm doing some good here."

"Your ankle can't be certified as 100 fit."

"My ankle needs to be cut off at the knee," MacAllister retorted dryly. She refilled Houlihan's glass. "But it won't stop me from doing my job, **ever**!"

"You're undisciplined." The major took another cookie and passed the tin to Sarabeth.

"You ride rough shod over your nurses and try to stomp out any individuality they possess." MacAllister refuted as she selected a cookie.

"You constantly defy my authority."

"You need to get off my back and ride Parnelli---hard. She's the sloppiest nurse I have ever seen."

"You had the perfect opportunity to take over as the head nurse of this outfit."

"You're the head nurse of this outfit."

"Yes, I am. And I need a reliable nurse as my second-in-command: someone who is a good surgical nurse and who can keep the OR running smoothly when I'm at the other MASH units---on Colonel Blankenship's orders---explaining why my hospital is so efficient."

"I'm a very good surgical nurse. And I can run an OR."

"I don't like my nurses trading jokes with the doctors."

"I reckon I can manage to keep my mouth shut...some of the time," Sarabeth MacAllister responded with a grin.

Major Houlihan nodded. "Clear out of here, Lieutenant. I have a report to write for Colonel Potter. You and I will go over your duties as second-in-command after I meet with him in the morning."

MacAllister's smile was radiant. "I can stay?"

"Pending the colonel's approval, you can. Dismissed, Lieutenant."

"Yes, ma'am!" The nurse began to gather the folders she had brought with her.

"Leave them," the older woman directed. "And leave the brandy bottle, too."

"Yes, ma'am. Good night, Major. And _thanks_!"

* * *

An exuberant whoop was heard in the compound a few minutes later. Recognizing the voice, several people in the camp smiled in satisfaction at the sound.

Lieutenant Sarabeth MacAllister was here to stay.


End file.
